


Honorable Hostage

by ladydragon76



Series: Honorable Hostage [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> The war is over, and in a bid to keep it over, the ancient tradition of trading hostages is proposed and enacted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thundercracker

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1/IDW  
>  **Series:** Honorable Hostage  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Thundercracker, Bluestreak, Skywarp, Megatron, Starscream, Optimus Prime, Vortex, and more in various pairing configurations.  
>  **Warnings:** Dub-con, AU, Sticky  
>  **Notes:** A request fill. The request can be found **[here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12552960) **. Written for Sci-Fi Big Bang 2013.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Art by the epic Darthneko**

[](http://imgur.com/V6v9n6D)

Thundercracker held it all back, standing stoically on the clean metal ground that served as a border for the factions now that they were back on Cybertron, barely listening as Prime and Megatron exchanged greetings and reiterated the two week time period for the visitation and when they would all be meeting up for the return trade. He ignored everything, standing still, then walking like an automaton until he reached the quarters he shared with Skywarp before the exchange. Then the door closed, leaving him alone with his trine mates.

“TC?” Skywarp asked, and Thundercracker felt that tenuous control snap.

Starscream was closer, so he ended up with Thundercracker’s arms wound around his neck, face buried in his shoulder as he tried not to bawl like a sparkling. He failed of course, the familiar embraces of his trine mates destroying the dam he’d built to hold back all the hurt and loneliness and humiliation.

“What is going on here?” Megatron asked. “Is he crying?”

Thundercracker pulled back, wiping at his face, even as Starscream gave a helpless shrug and Skywarp’s hands stroked his wings. “I’m s-sorry, sir. I’m just-” His vocalizer glitched static, optics flooding. Thundercracker shook his helm, tried to cycle his vents, and apologized again. He noticed Soundwave there too, and scrubbed at his face more.

The visible _concern_ undid him, and Thundercracker stopped fighting it. “Don’t send me back! Please, my lord, I beg of you! Don’t make me go back there!”

They were all silent for a moment, then Skywarp said quietly, “I’ll go instead.”

“What?! No!” Thundercracker couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting anyone else to all that he’d gone through. No, he couldn’t let that happen! “No. It’s fine! I’m fine. Just homesick. I missed you.” He clutched at Skywarp’s arm with both hands until large black ones covered his and patiently peeled his fingers away.

Thundercracker was pulled against a broad silver chest, the back of his helm cupped. _Megatron_ purring comfortingly to him stripped him raw. He might have been able to pull himself together with his trine, but not with Megatron too. He so rarely showed affection through tactile contact. Or at all, really.

Thundercracker was tugged a few steps forward, then pulled down into Megatron’s lap. “Would it be easier, or more… unsettling for you to allow Soundwave to scan your memories?”

Relive the whole thing in something like a half an hour, or try to hiccup and sob out the whole sordid tale for _hours_? “Soundwave, please.”

Soundwave sat behind Thundercracker beside Megatron, his hand coming up to caress Thundercracker’s helm. There was the slightest pressure to guide Thundercracker to rest his helm against Megatron’s shoulder, then Soundwave said, “Relax. This will not hurt. I will be as brief as possible.”

Thundercracker cycled his vents, exhaling a shaky breath, and then let Soundwave in.

~

Thundercracker let his legs swing a little as he sat on the med berth. Sure, it was immature and fidgety, but he’d been in the slagging Autobot medbay for _hours_ while Ratchet scanned him, and poked him, and prodded him with more devices than he could ever hope to name. The only reason he wasn’t complaining was because it was damn nice to have that one bundle of scarred and fragged wiring replaced, and the medic had even found that pinch in his left wing and repaired it.

He could bear the medical checkup and all the maintenance easily enough. It was just one more part of his role as Honorable Hostage to the Autobots. And they were _Autobots_. Once he was cleared and all the precautions taken to make them feel safe against the big, bad, scary Decepticon, he’d be their pampered pet for the next four months.

After Prime had accepted the suggestion of a Hostage exchange to help ease the post-war tensions, Megatron had spent all the interim on educating the Decepticons on how they needed to treat the Autobot sent to them, what was expected of them, what he would do to them if they did not live up to the responsibility and honor bestowed upon them. Nearly all of the Decepticons were jealous of Thundercracker, that Megatron had chosen him to get to go be treated with all this honor and attention by the soft-sparked Autobots.

Thundercracker and Megatron spent a lot of time alone together as well, Megatron showing him the old documents he himself had written up long ago based on all kinds of research he had done. Who would have ever guessed Megatron had been such a scholar? Thundercracker knew he’d been a miner before a gladiator. He certainly nailed charisma and public speaking, but where the slag had a lowly miner managed to get such a well-rounded education in politics, history, and all the various cultures of Cybertron, and even a few beyond?

Megatron had said, and Thundercracker supposed it made sense, that if one knew where their people came from, then they could better steer their future. _Some_ parts of the past were worth preserving, and the reinstitution of the Honorable Hostage could serve this new, fragile attempt at peace well. It was why, Megatron had told him, he was choosing Thundercracker. He held rank and value to the Decepticons, but was also one of the few known for his calmer disposition. Megatron placed his faith and trust in Thundercracker’s cool head and patience, and since he had no truly critical ‘job’ yet in their post-war society, he was the best choice for this honor and duty.

Duty, Thundercracker reminded himself as Wheeljack stepped close, some new thing in his hands that Ratchet took after setting aside the tool he’d been using.

Vocal indicators flashed blue, matching the cadence of Wheeljack’s speech. Thundercracker watched them, still a little mentally bored, and not really interested in the new device until Ratchet placed it around his neck.

“Uh…”

“That ok?” Wheeljack asked.

“Not sure.” Thundercracker poked at it. It wasn’t _really_ a collar, he supposed, just a thin circlet that sat just under his collar faring. It wasn’t tight enough to be uncomfortable, or heavy at all. Too thin to chafe.

“It just sends a signal out to the doors to restricted areas,” Ratchet explained. “Places like the labs, or where sensitive information is kept.”

“Easier than recoding every door in the place.” Wheeljack’s fins lit merrily, optics tilting like he was smiling under that blast mask.

“If it bothers you, let me know,” Ratchet said. “It can be adjusted.”

Thundercracker arched an optic ridge, but allowed Ratchet to move his hand away from the… collar?

Well. What the frag could he do? Make a fuss? Whine about a little scrap of metal that could almost be jewelry from some Towerling’s collection?

Ok. Fine, it was weird, but it wasn’t like they were locking him into some thick collar like some turbohound or slave. It was just for security, and Thundercracker knew that most of the Autobots were probably afraid of him. He would accept it. Be calm. They would learn that he wasn’t a threat as they got to know him. No problem. _This_ is why Megatron chose him. Starscream would have thrown a fit. Skywarp would have thrown a tantrum. Soundwave… Well, with his history as a former slave, he’d probably have rightfully flipped out.

In a… Soundwave-y way…

Yeah, that would have been bad, and Thundercracker couldn’t imagine any of the other Decepticons reacting all that much better, then there would go the peace that Megatron really did actually want before they slagged themselves into extinction.

“It should be fine,” Thundercracker finally said, then offered a small smile. “But yeah, I’ll let you know if it rubs or anything.”

Ratchet gave him a nod, then commed Prime to let him know Thundercracker was done.

~ 

“You’ll be staying here with me. Make yourself at home,” Optimus Prime said, gesturing around the rather sparse quarters. “You’re welcome to use anything in here. I have some datafiles on the shelves. The vidscreen will play Earth movies and television shows from the database.”

Thundercracker frowned a little, optics roaming the rather small space. His rooms with Skywarp were larger and nicer than this. One would have thought the Prime would have a better apartment, certainly he could have gotten one with a separate berth room from the lounge? He paused at the sight of a single, wide berth.

“Wash room is this door.”

“So, we’re sharing?” Thundercracker asked, the words coming slowly.

“Of course. If you’ll excuse me? I was hoping to grab a quick wash before Ratchet commed, but just didn’t have time with all the other preparations.”

Thundercracker blinked, but managed a nod. Prime disappeared into his washrack, leaving Thundercracker to wonder whether he’d been understood. He was all right with sharing quarters, he had for his entire life in one way or another, but sharing a berth? Really? How bad off were the Autobots? Thundercracker thought that things were improving with the end of the war. He couldn’t see how the Autobots, who had long ago accepted the humans and adapted their technologies to their own use, could be worse off than the Decepticons that were only just deciding that, yeah, ok, the weird organics did have _some_ good ideas.

Starscream had been in the stratosphere, drifting in a science-induced rapture since Megatron had granted him permission to start adapting alternative energy sources into energon. The Decepticons had been treated to so many excited, strange, finish-each-other’s-sentences type of conversations from Mixmaster and Starscream, that they had stopped finding it frightening. They had one large building at the opposite end of the city from the Autobots that everyone was busting struts cleaning, repairing, and making livable, but only the mechs that wanted to share quarters still did, and more space was being developed every day.

Thundercracker couldn’t even imagine how much would have changed by the time his return visit home rolled around. They had already done so much in just two months’ time. What more would they accomplish in double that?

So why weren’t the Autobots better off? Why was Thundercracker sharing a room _and_ a berth with the Prime? He had heard that whole ‘keep your enemies closer’ thing, but the same _berth_? Pits, Thundercracker had helped ready the Autobot Hostage’s apartment. It was _nice_. And _private_. Especially compared to this. This was a tiny room, in a windowless, underground, wartime bunker. There were no creature comforts visible.

Well…

Thundercracker eyed the narrow sofa stationed in front of the vidscreen. That was something, and maybe he was wrong about the berth sharing? He was _not_ recharging on the sofa though. Slag that. His wings would have to hang over the side. Even sharing, he thought he and Prime would both fit on the berth. It was big enough, if a bit firm-looking.

Ok, whatever. He could manage it. Megatron had told him that interfacing was common between host and Hostage to build the emotional bond, and Thundercracker enjoyed overloading as much as the next mech. (Unless that next mech was Skywarp, but that slagger had one Pit of a drive, even for a flight model, so he didn’t count.) This was fine. He already knew the Autobots were different, and Thundercracker could handle this. Prime wasn’t even all that unattractive for a grounder. Nice colors, good voice. Big hands.

Thundercracker poked at the datapads on one of the shelves, mostly just looking to see what the Prime found worthy of keeping in his personal quarters for evening reading. He wondered if anything had been added specifically for him, but found nothing very interesting. He knew all about the war, so reading declassified logs wasn’t appealing.

Boredom was really starting to settle in when Prime finally stepped out of the wash room. Thundercracker opened his mouth to speak, but Prime ordered the lights to dim.

“I’m sure it’s been a long day for you too. Shall we retire?”

Thundercracker blinked. Recharge? Already? When the frag did the Autobot get up in the mornings? They were barely into the night cycle!

He was here to fit in, Thundercracker reminded himself. Insurance, student of another culture, and ambassador all in one. He had to earn their trust and friendship before they’d learn to trust other Decepticons.

“Yeah, ok.” Thundercracker crossed to the berth, waiting a moment as Prime scooted over into the place closer to the wall. That was nice of him. It was a minor thing, just so Thundercracker’s wings wouldn’t be at risk of smacking the wall, but it was thoughtful.

Thundercracker settled on his back as the lights completely shut off. It was surprising how disorienting it was. The room smelled different. The temperature was off by just a few degrees, not uncomfortable, but noticeable. The berth wasn’t as soft as his or Skywarp’s, Prime’s systems sounded different, he had that damn _collar_ around his neck and could feel it, _and_ the very energy in the air was at odds with his field!

How the slag was he going to recharge? He’d been expecting his own space, some place that he could be just a little homesick in, pace, stare off at a wall undisturbed as he worked through the emotions and got himself firmly on course, a-

No wait. That was it. This wasn’t horrible or intolerable, or even uncomfortable, it was just a genuinely _different_ situation from what he was used to, and he couldn’t flit off to that place he named ‘home’ whenever he wanted. Which he knew and accepted, and even though he’d tried, he’d come into this with certain expectations based on what the Decepticons were doing for their Hostage.

Thundercracker cycled his vents and forced himself to relax. It was fine. He was fine, and there wasn’t anything unacceptable about Prime keeping him close. Pits, it was probably the Autobots’ way of honoring him. They were trusting him alone with their leader. Sure, Prime could wipe the mats with him in hand to hand, but that was _if_ he saw the strike coming in time. Thundercracker was being _trusted_ , he repeated to himself. This was a good thing. He cycled his vents again, sinking into the thin padding of the berth. That was until a touch bumped his hip, making him jump.

“Apologies. I suppose I should have left the lights on a little to see, but-” Prime cut himself off, and Thundercracker found himself confused again as those fingers that had clumsily startled him wandered over his waist rather than retreating.

What was going on?

Oh.

Wait, really?

Prime snuggled up to Thundercracker’s side, his weight pushing on a wing a bit uncomfortably, and nuzzling into his neck. Thundercracker laid still, at a bit of a loss over how to handle this newest of new developments. Especially when Prime pushed up over him, his knee wedging -gently enough not to be labeled as forceful or demanding- between Thundercracker’s thighs. His hands were… not very steady on Thundercracker’s wings, and that was almost… cute. Was the Prime nervous about this?

Some of the tension eased from Thundercracker’s frame. It was a little fast, but the awkward caresses and tentative touches were rather endearing. In a way. Prime was shy, or maybe even worried about pleasing Thundercracker in the berth? That really was kind of cute, if not arousing.

Should he stop this? Because it was really plain what was going to happen as Prime’s hand groped at his panel, and Thundercracker wasn’t sure he was quite _that_ ready. Not physically for sure. Of course, maybe Prime would do more for him? He allowed his panel to auto-release, spike extending out of habit, but Thundercracker was guessing that it would be his valve getting the attention, and, yep, there went the fingers around the rim. Ok, that was nice. A little more play like that and he-

There was a click in the dark, then Prime braced over him on one arm, the other hand guiding his spike. He slid in _far_ easier than he should have. Thundercracker had been with Megatron multiple times, so he knew Prime wouldn’t hurt him once he was ready, but he _wasn’t_ ready. But it _didn’t_ hurt.

The realization could have knocked Thundercracker right out of the sky. Prime had slathered a synthetic lubricant onto his spike!

Thundercracker reeled in shock as Prime rutted over him with quick, shallow thrusts. He raised his hands, gripping Prime’s shoulders to brace as the pace picked up. Any arousal he’d begun to feel was _gone_. This was… This was…

Prime grunted, a hot gush filling Thundercracker’s valve as he shuddered, then gasped.

There was a pause, then, “Good night,” as Prime climbed off of him.

Thundercracker lay still, staring into the darkness above him as Prime moved as far away as he could. Fluids leaked out, making his plating crawl and a shudder ripple through his frame.

What. The frag. Had _that_ been?!

Thundercracker muted his vocalizer against the demand. He couldn’t end his first day by glitching the Prime’s audials over a little poor interfacing. What if Prime was just a really _bad_ lover? Would he be insulted to know of Thundercracker’s dissatisfaction? Maybe he just didn’t interface all that often? The Decepticons had never really uncovered a mech the Prime was particularly attached to more than the others. He might actually be rather inexperienced, in which case Thundercracker would only embarrass and humiliate him by calling attention to his severely lacking berth skills.

Slag. Ok, well maybe he could just subtly guide and teach Prime what to do for him? He was going to be here for four months. If Prime was willing to just dive into interfacing the first night, then it stood to reason that this was going to happen again. Thundercracker would carefully, gently just… nudge Prime in the right direction for pleasing him in the berth. Show him how wonderful and frelling ecstatic overloads could really be if the mechs involved put forth a little more effort.

That went for Thundercracker as well. He was a bit taken off his guard, and that could be forgiven too. All right. He could still handle this. He might not know what the frag Prime was thinking just poking his spike in like that, but he could work with this. For peace. For Megatron’s faith in him. For the lives he saw every last one of the Decepticons trying to build for themselves after a too-long war. He could do this.

He… would wait until he was sure Prime was recharging then clean up though. No way could he rest with the cooling fluids under his aft like that.

~

Thundercracker sat alone at a table in the Autobots’ common room. Some Earth movie played in the background, but it had lost his attention pretty quickly. He had been tempted to strike up a conversation with the mechs watching it, but they looked really absorbed, so instead he sipped his energon and wondered why the Prime didn’t rate his own private dispenser.

The Decepticons, for the most part now, all had dispensers in their rooms. There was something of a limit per day, of course, but everyone had access, and that limit verged on the ridiculous for anyone not trying something stupid, like getting cratered on nutrition grade. It was one of Megatron’s first priorities. Never again would a mech starve. They’d all had to live so spare during the war, but energon for the Decepticons _and_ energon to send home had always been the whole point of the raids on Earth.

Thundercracker was glad those days were done. He was an elite Seeker, not a petty thief.

Not that a mech would guess it with that sneer Mirage was giving him. Thundercracker smiled anyway, then a little wider when the little yellow minibot approached. What was his name? Slag it. Bug- something, right? He should really go over his datafile on the Autobots again. He should have memorized it before leaving, but he’d been a little busy with the attention of his trine and leader, and even a few others.

“Hi,” the yellow Autobot said. “I’m Bumblebee.”

“Thundercracker,” Thundercracker replied to be polite. “Ni-”

“Don’t waste your time, Bee.” Another minibot appeared. Cliffjumper. Thundercracker knew his name. Angry little slagger, but Thundercracker would still be polite. He was combatting _how_ many vorns of compounded hatred?

“It’s not a waste,” Thundercracker said, tone pitched to be soothing.

“ _You’re_ a waste!” Cliffjumper sniped back. “It’s _sick_ that poor Optimus has to fuck you.”

Thundercracker’s optics went wide. He knew that word. Pits, the Stunticons used it constantly, but he was shocked to hear it from an Autobot in reference to their own Prime. And how would they know what he and Prime had done last night? What felt even worse than the idea that _Prime_ would interface -badly- and then go telling, was how all the Autobots were agreeing with Cliffjumper. Bumblebee was hot pink in the face, and suddenly unable to look at Thundercracker.

“You know,” Thundercracker began, tone still as even as he could make it. “Prime does-”

A finger jabbed against his cockpit. “You keep your filth to yourself, Decepticreep! We don’t want to hear it!” The room was suddenly filled with the other mechs’ loud agreement, and more than a few suggestions Thundercracker wasn’t about to take.

Thundercracker inhaled and exhaled slowly. It was just his first day, he thought. They just weren’t handling it well, and if they weren’t even going to let him remind them that Prime didn’t _have_ to interface with him, then he wasn’t going to convince them of anything. He rose, using his height and mass to move Cliffjumper back, and then calmly quit the room. Catcalls followed Thundercracker down the corridor, but he very carefully kept his wings held steady, pace even, and walked away. He would help nothing by reacting, and _this_ was why Megatron had chosen him. He _could_ walk away from a potential fight, pride and ego intact because he understood the bigger picture. He understood what Megatron wanted, but not only that, _he_ wanted peace too. He believed with his whole spark that it was time to move on, agreed with Megatron that peace was attainable. There were so few of them left that fighting was plain stupid. They weren’t getting anywhere that way, so it was time to try something new, and Thundercracker was proud to be a part of it.

Thundercracker would think on it. Maybe he should sit more to the side, be less in their faces with his presence? He would take a datapad too, to read. Slouch. Yeah. Look less threatening and huge scary Decepticon. That would probably help and he was willing to do whatever it took.

~

Thundercracker was bored and also having trouble shaking his disappointment. He’d tried to slow Prime down the previous night, but it had gone exactly as it had the last time, and Thundercracker was left lying in a wet spot, unsatisfied and only vaguely aroused still.

He didn’t understand the synthetic lubricant. If Prime just gave him a chance, gave him more than a few cursory gropes, he could warm up enough on his own that it wouldn’t be needed.

Shaking the thoughts off as best as he could, Thundercracker continued toward the communications room. He wasn’t sure where Prime was, but if whoever was in there couldn’t help him, they could at least reach Prime. Thundercracker needed a good flight, even if it was just five minutes. Even if they were more comfortable with him going with an escort. He didn’t care, he just needed to get out and clear his head for a little, stretch his wings, feel the wind whip past his plating.

Thundercracker stepped through the open door into Communications and smiled in greeting. “Hi. Can one of you-”

“What are _you_ doing in here?! What are you up to?!”

Thundercracker blinked, actually taking a step back as Red Alert stomped toward him and launched into nothing less than a full interrogation. The only thing he was lacking were the shackles and shock-stick being shoved under his plating.

“Whoa! Hey! I just wanted to see if someone could clear me for a quick flight.” Thundercracker held his hands up, palms out, and forced his wings from lifted and sharply angled, to dipping in a more submissive, acquiescent gesture.

Red Alert paused, mouth working wordlessly for a moment as though so affronted he didn’t know what to say. “Fly?” he finally asked, the word coming out dripping with incredulity.

Thundercracker chose to ignore the tone, and offered a tentative smile. “Yes. Just something to stretch my wings a little.”

Red Alert continued to stare and so did the other two mechs, ignoring their monitor banks. Thundercracker wasn’t sure what else to say. Was the idea of a Seeker wanting to fly a little so foreign to them? What about Skyfire? What about the Aerialbots? Surely they went flying occasionally just for the pleasure of it. Pits, even at his worst and most unbalanced, Megatron understood a flyer’s need to just get out for a little while. Starscream always listed it as a ‘training exercise’, but everyone knew that loop-de-loops and tag weren’t exactly training exercises.

“You are not allowed to fly.” Red Alert’s words came out slowly, and Thundercracker couldn’t stop the frown.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a hostage?” The ‘duh’ rang from Blaster’s question, but Thundercracker managed to rein himself in and only tilt his helm in a confused manner.

“I’m hardly going to escape. This is a position of honor.”

Red Alert snorted. “You are not authorized to exit this base.”

“Could we ask Prime?” Thundercracker tried. He didn’t want to push, but he couldn’t see _why_ he’d be so restricted. “I understand security and all, so an escort would be acceptable, I just-”

“Are you out of your mind?! I’m not pulling one of our Autobots off their assigned tasks just so _you_ can go attempt to escape!”

“Escape isn’t even something I considered,” Thundercracker assured.

“Oh really? You were quick enough to deny that’s what you wanted to do.”

“I- What?” Thundercracker shook his helm. “No. I have absolutely no intention of trying to escape. I-”

“Good! Then you have no reason to fly.” Red Alert crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at Thundercracker as if daring him to continue to argue.

Thundercracker met his gaze for a moment, then nodded. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone a long time without being able to fly before, it was just… restricting not to have the option. “All right,” he said at length, and turned to leave. The muttering started before Thundercracker was even a step beyond the door, but he ignored it.

It’s too soon, he told himself. He would give it a few days, maybe a week, then speak to Prime.

No. Damn, he couldn’t do that! That would only insult Red Alert if Thundercracker went over his head. Slag it! Ok, he’d just have to manage without flying for a while. Once they learned to trust him, once he’d had a chance to actually _explain_ that he was genuinely honored to be their Hostage, they would understand. After all, the Autobots thought the Decepticons were the ‘bad guys’ in the war, and while Thundercracker knew damn well there were some true dirt bags on his side, and even he had done a lot of things he was ashamed of, the Autobots thought they were a _lot_ worse than they were.

The old Causes didn’t matter anymore, however, only working his way past their fear and maintaining the peace. If giving up flying for four short little months was how that was accomplished, then so be it. Thundercracker would survive, and everything would be better because of it. Slag, it was barely even a sacrifice when he really thought about it.

~

Thundercracker clutched at Prime’s upper arms, hips rocking up and back, trying to just feel _enough_ , but he couldn’t. It was incredibly frustrating, especially as Prime grunted, his hot fluids spilling over nodes that had only _just_ began to gather charge inside Thundercracker’s valve.

Thundercracker forced down a growl, and focused on making the tension drain from his limbs as Prime hurried off of him.

“Good night,” was muttered barely loud enough to be heard, but tonight Thundercracker just couldn’t find the pity for Prime’s sad lack of prowess.

He lay silently in the dark, wondering if he shouldn’t just go ahead and work himself over. The idea didn’t really appeal, not there on the berth, and not even alone in the washrack. Thundercracker tried to salvage the charge anyway since it’d been over two weeks since his last overload. He _should_ want it. He thought about Skywarp, and Starscream, and even Megatron, who was large and heavy with a generous spike, and never needed to pre-lube-

Yeah. Never mind.

Thundercracker sighed, did his best to ignore Prime, who was ignoring him and not recharging yet, and rolled off the berth to go wash up.

~

Thundercracker was unutterably bored. The datafiles in Prime’s quarters were dry, boring texts, mostly on religion or politics, or even worse, history the way the old Council had wanted it remembered, not how it had actually happened. Thundercracker was all for letting a mech believe in Primus if he wanted to, and figured it made sense that Prime would since he had the Matrix and all, but he didn’t want to read about it. He didn’t want to read about old political policies that he really hoped never got implemented again, and he sure as slag didn’t want to choke on the pretty lies about how perfect Cybertron was until Megatron corrupted so many into destroying it.

Thundercracker was old enough to remember how bad things were before the war. He thought a philosophical discussion with Prime could be nice, seeing as they were both level-headed mechs, intelligent, patient, but nope. Prime didn’t want to _talk_ to him. He stayed away until it was late enough to recharge, then came in, hid in the wash room lubing up before poking at Thundercracker fast enough to overload, then rolled over and pretended to pass out.

After weeks of the same thing, day in and day out, Thundercracker needed a change of scenery before he went completely insane. He was just wandering around, trying to pretend like he wasn’t avoiding the Autobots that were still so… chilly, he supposed could be the right word, toward him. They weren’t _really_ hostile, but they sure weren’t making any sort of effort to be friendly. Thundercracker wasn’t sure what to do about it. He walked away from anything that felt like the Autobot involved was trying to goad him into reacting, but it was beginning to feel like retreat.

“Primus, I know!”

Thundercracker stopped short before the corner, trying to match up the voice to the face. He had studied his own datapad until he could recognize every Autobot known to the Decepticons on sight, but their voices were still difficult. Prime he would know anywhere. Ratchet was easy. Jazz and Wheeljack and Ironhide all had very distinctive accents, but most of the others were indistinguishable unless Thundercracker could see them.

“I hope he’s doing ok,” the same voice continued.

“I don’t see how he possibly can be,” another voice stated. “He’s over there with those ‘Cons!”

“I just don’t understand how Optimus could have sent Blue,” a third spoke, voice ringing with concern and sadness. “He’s so… I don’t know. I know Bluestreak’s not weak, but he’s so traumatized. Just how could they choose him and not someone that could hold up under Decepticon torture better?”

Thundercracker frowned. Torture? Bluestreak was a Hostage, not a prisoner of war. Thundercracker shook his helm, weight shifting to go join the conversation. He’d helped set up Bluestreak’s suite, had been at every lecture Megatron had given them about how to behave with the Hostage, so he was fairly qualified to ease their concerns, but the next words brought him up short again.

“Thundercracker’s fragging lucky.”

“Right? He’s practically _free_ , getting to walk around the base, and get his own energon. _We’re_ probably lucky he hasn’t attacked anyone by now.”

Lucky?! Attacked? What? Thundercracker shook his helm, hardly believing what he was hearing. They sneered at him, gave him the cold shoulder, insulted him, tried to instigate fights!

No wait, they _were_ lucky he hadn’t decked anyone yet. Didn’t they want the war to _stay_ over?

“Well, we can’t just stick him in a cell. He lives here now. Prime’s way too soft-sparked to just lock him up.”

“No, but I can’t see how having to share a berth with a ‘Con is actually a good thing for Optimus.”

The sound of plating rattling in a disgusted shudder actually stung Thundercracker. He was a Seeker. They were the prized berthmates of Cybertron. Pits, Thundercracker himself, when much younger and stupider, had allowed himself to play the part of a pampered pet in the Towers! If Prime would just give him a slagging _chance_ to heat up before rutting over him for two minutes every slagging night, he might even get a chance to show off a few of his better interfacing tricks.

“Yeah, well you couldn’t pay me enough to ‘face a ‘Con.”

Thundercracker wanted to stomp around the corner and say no self-respecting Decepticon _would_ interface with him, but froze. Slag. No. No, self-respecting Decepticon- no self-respecting mech of _any_ faction would put up with everything he had been, but he _had_ to! He eased back a step, then another, mind spinning.

No, he just had to try harder. Megatron gave him this duty because he could handle it. Because he was patient. Because- Because he didn’t just jump on mechs and start fights because they insulted him. Because he wanted this to work out.

Thundercracker pulled away, quietly walking back the direction he’d come. He _had_ been avoiding the Autobots, and that was something he couldn’t do. He _had_ to show them that he wasn’t really that much different from them. He wanted peace, but more than that, he didn’t want to be what broke the delicate peace they had managed to build between the factions so far.

He would be more present. He would force them to see him being calm and normal. He would stop just walking away because that clearly wasn’t working.

Wait, hadn’t he just-

Ok, he was done walking away _now_ , however it was still probably the right choice to leave that conversation behind. They wouldn’t have wanted to listen to him just then. No, he had to start by just being around, not retreating, but also not rising to their bait. It was time to grab one of Prime’s boring-aft datapads and go plop himself in the common room to read in plain view of all of them. He would take their slag, and show them the dignity and patience of a proper Hostage.

~

Thundercracker was up and wandering again. He’d gone to the common room, sat through the morning rush for energon and standard barrage of snide comments, cold shoulders, and blatant attempts to goad him into the fight he wasn’t going to be goaded into, then left to take a walk when all the Autobots had moved on to their duty shifts. He wasn’t looking for them, but he didn’t stop around corners anymore if he heard voices, and he _did_ pause and state simple facts about the Honorable Hostage tradition if that was what the mechs in question were talking about.

He knew he wasn’t believed, but he tried anyway, tone calm and smooth, words simple and concise. It was hard. Thundercracker was drawing on reserves of patience that Starscream at his worst, his most shrill and hateful, had never tapped, but he was trying. He was also trying not to let the obvious failure drain him, but that wasn’t working all that well either.

Nights were no better than the days. Every night, no matter what Thundercracker tried to say or do, Prime would push into him, and get it over as fast as possible. It was demoralizing, and almost impossible anymore to try to convince himself that Prime didn’t know what he was doing. _Why_ was Prime interfacing with him if he didn’t desire Thundercracker? What the slag was the point? Did he think that Thundercracker _enjoyed_ it? No, Prime just wasn’t that stupid. If anything he was embarrassed too. In fact, he treated it as though he was just trying to get through an unpleasant duty as fast as possible.

Thundercracker huffed, and looked up. Slag it, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and now didn’t know where he was. Whatever, he’d go to the right. Eventually he would run into someone or find his way back. Or he could just go in somewhere and ask. That could work too. Thundercracker reached for a keypad beside the next door. Maybe someone was in there that would help him without too much flailing and cursing about spying Decepticons.

The sharp electric snap and buzz around his neck was so sudden, so unexpected, and so surprising that Thundercracker fell to his aft on the floor. His hands automatically went for the thin collar he rarely even thought about anymore, but as he pulled, it delivered another shock. It hurt enough to drive a pained shout out of Thundercracker. He fought the pain and the instinctive urge to pull away the thing causing his pain, and ended up spread-eagle on the floor, panting hard and staring at the ceiling.

 _What_ , in all the hot, smelting _Pits_ had _**that**_ been?!

No. The word rung and echoed and banged around inside Thundercracker’s helm as he lay there, stunned, neck and fingers stinging.

No!

It was one thing to accept a ‘necklace’ that just sent a signal that kept a door from opening for him, but it was an _entirely_ different thing to be electrocuted like an unruly turbohound for daring to touch a slagging keypad.

 _No!_ Thundercracker would _not_ accept this.

Of course his attempt to bring it up to Prime did not go as he’d hoped, but then Thundercracker was beginning to suspect that he was never going to be listened to. He might as well be buzzing away in some foreign language.

“Yes, I heard about that. Red Alert threw an absolute fit over it. Please refrain from trying to enter the storage rooms in the future.”

Thundercracker gaped for a moment. “I was lost, and looking for help.”

Prime nodded. “You didn’t appear to be purposely looking for trouble in the video, which is why I’m only reminding you to be more aware in the future instead of having to hand down a more strict reprimand.”

Thundercracker blinked, mind absolutely blank. Video. They had _watched_ him flail and cry out, then lay there gasping in pain, and done _nothing_?

Prime moved, pointing toward the wash room door. “I’ll be out in just a few minutes, then we can retire for the day.”

That snapped Thundercracker out of his shock. He shook his helm, words lacking their usual diplomacy and patience. “If you’re only going in there to lube up, don’t bother. I really don’t feel like being ‘faced tonight.”

The relief in Prime was unmistakable, but then he just had to add to it by acting concerned. “Are you feeling all right?”

Thundercracker bit his tongue quite literally, and cycled his vents before allowing himself to speak. “I just want to recharge.”

Frowning, Prime stepped closer to Thundercracker. “Are you certain? Nothing was accidentally fried? I don’t recall seeing-”

Thundercracker flinched back as Prime reached for the collar, then slid sideways to stand from the chair he’d been sitting in. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

“You’re upset.” Prime reached out again and squeezed Thundercracker’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Thundercracker. I am not angry with you.”

Damn right, I’m upset, Thundercracker thought, but not because _I_ screwed up and poked the wrong frelling door! He swallowed the words, then shook his head. “I’m tired. I’m _really_ tired.” _And I don’t want you touching me. I don’t want that weird slick synthetic lubricant sliming my valve up for a damn change. I don’t want to interface someone that doesn’t want **me**!_

Prime stared at Thundercracker for a moment, maybe reading his slagging mind, maybe just as confused as he looked, but then he nodded. “As you wish.”

Thundercracker nodded too, not really trusting himself to speak, then waited for Prime to crawl onto the berth and curl up with his back to the room. With his back to Thundercracker.

Thundercracker suddenly felt incredibly alone. He’d been pushing away the emotion for months now. He had tried so hard to be accepting, patient, understanding, to give them all time, but how the slag long was it going to take?

Thundercracker gave himself a shake, then curled up on the edge of the berth so his wingtips wouldn’t bump Prime. This was his duty. It was an honor. He repeated that over and over until he fell into recharge. Even then, he woke up unconvinced.

~

Thundercracker leaned his forehelm against the wall of Prime’s washrack, hot water pouring down over him and washing away the strange red gel that had been dumped over his head as he entered the common room. One Pit of a way to start the morning, that was for damn sure.

So this was how the Autobots obeyed their Prime’s edicts? Great. Could Thundercracker go home now? Please?

He had really tried. He had sat down with Prime in an actual scheduled meeting in Prime’s office and had expressed his feelings of displacement. How he was trying, but didn’t know what more to do to convince the others that his place here was because he believed in the peace, because he _wanted_ that peace to last. He definitely didn’t want the war to start all over again, but being prodded and insulted at every turn after so long was wearing him down.

He had skipped over the whole interfacing thing, because after a few more nights of Thundercracker saying he didn’t want to, Prime had stopped touching him. That was a non-topic anymore, and Thundercracker wanted it to stay that way.

When Prime had nodded and agreed to speak with the Autobots, Thundercracker had given the mech his first smile in what had to have been weeks. He’d gratefully stood in the common room -the largest room the Autobots had for group announcements- and nodded as Prime told them all that Thundercracker was with them to ensure peace. Everyone needed to remember their manners, that the Autobot way was acceptance and equality.

And blah, blah, blah!

Thundercracker lifted his helm away from the wall only so he could drop it back with a thump. Then again. Then once more for good measure.

Goody-goody Autobots, Thundercracker’s currently sticky and raspberry-flavored aft!

Sure, the snide comments had stopped. No one was out and out _trying_ to pick a fight with Thundercracker of late, but then began the ‘accidental’ spills. The ‘oops, sorry about that!’ stumbles that ended with Thundercracker covered in something that required he leave wherever he was to get a shower before it dried. Paint, energon, smelly grease. It was never-ending.

 _Then_ the pranks had started.

Something foul-tasting would be slipped into Thundercracker’s energon while someone else distracted him. Somehow Thundercracker’s ankles ended up tied together. His datapads disappeared from the very table he sat at if he didn’t keep his optics or hands on them. And now this, Thundercracker thought in disgust as he straightened and began to scrub at his plating.

The bucket had landed perfectly over Thundercracker’s helm, the cold gel splattering all over him, oozing under his plating, dripping between seams, and clogging his vents. He very carefully smoothed a finger under the collar, ever conscious of how it had electrocuted him in the past. The _last_ damn thing he wanted was to be zapped while standing under the showerhead with water swirling all around his feet. No fragging thank you! He liked his circuits just fine when not fried. He also had a hard time getting his wings cleaned off. The gel seemed to melt easily enough in the hot water, but Thundercracker didn’t want it gumming up the hinges or sticking in any of the fine seams of the panels.

He sure wasn’t going to ask Prime for his help! The very thought made his plating crawl.

Primus, but he missed Skywarp. He missed Starscream too. He missed the quiet, and the not so quiet, grooming sessions. He missed feeling desired. He missed just having a _friend_ there to talk to. He and Skywarp had played all sorts of pranks on the other Decepticons, but they had never focused on just one the way the Autobots were doing with Thundercracker. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t funny. It was _nothing_ like the prank wars he and Skywarp would have with Rumble and Frenzy or the Stunticons. It wasn’t playful, but mean-spirited, and slag it! How the frag weak was he being, whining to himself in the washracks like some helpless newspark? He was better than this. It was just a frelling prank!

Thundercracker stilled, optics wide. A prank war. It was so simple, he nearly laughed out loud at the idea. He lacked supplies, but that only meant he needed to be more creative, and there were plenty of chances for him to swipe little items that he could use to make other things. One good prank on an Autobot and he would show them that he could play back too. They weren’t going to break him! Pits! He’d been looking at this all wrong.

Thundercracker hurried to finish washing up. He had plans to make, and memories to sort through for the perfect revenge prank.

~

“I am very disappointed in you, Thundercracker,” Prime said, pacing back and forth in front of the chair Thundercracker had been ordered to sit in.

Thundercracker held his wings tense and high, angry and embarrassed, and refusing to be cowed by the Autobot leader’s tone.

“You should know better than to instigate fights. You, yourself, have said how seriously you take your position here, and yet you pull a foolish, hurtful, mean-spirited stunt like this one today? Can you not see the hypocrisy in your actions?”

Can you not? Thundercracker wanted to say the words, but continued to glare up at Prime as he strode back and forth. Prime could not, he already knew, or why would he be lecturing Thundercracker on his behavior after condemning him to two days confinement in his quarters for doing the very thing most of the Autobots were doing without a word against them?

“You are not here to play childish, _dangerous_ pranks.”

“No, clearly I’m here to be your pleasure drone, and mocked and insulted and harassed constantly,” Thundercracker snapped. “You’re punishing me for the same thing they’ve been doing since the _day_ I arrived!”

Prime pinched the bridge of his nose, optics shutting as he audibly cycled his vents. “You’ve spent _vorns_ trying to kill them. Just how fast did you expect them to accept you?”

Thundercracker stared, mouth and optics open wide, absolutely floored by the words he was hearing. “They’re not even _trying_ to get to know me!”

“You need to try harder,” Prime said, stepping close and leaning over Thundercracker to grip his forearm.

The gesture was probably meant to be… bolstering? Encouraging? Thundercracker didn’t know because his processors were stuck on a loop, completely flabbergasted. _He_ had to try harder? _He_ was the troublemaker? _He_ was the one not doing enough?

“You’re a good mech, I can see it, but you must give them time, and playing pranks, especially ones that end with kind, well-liked youngsters like Bumblebee stuck to the wall and unable to escape are not at all conducive to that end.”

Thundercracker just stared up at Prime, and stayed silent. _Kind_ youngsters? Bumblebee was farking Spec Ops. He was sneaky, clever, and he had intentionally sprung Thundercracker’s trap so it would be him caught in it and not Huffer, who lacked all sense of humor. It was not Bumblebee who threw a fit about the prank, it was everyone else, but then the little slagger hadn’t said a single fragging word in Thundercracker’s defense either.

“Two days,” Prime reiterated, stepping back. “Two days for you to think over your behavior, and for everyone else to cool off. I will let them know that no retaliation will be allowed, because you’re already being punished, but when the third day comes, I want to see you interacting properly. Understood?”

Thundercracker remained silent, and stared at Prime until Prime gave a sharp nod, then turned and strode out, returning to whatever his duties were. Thundercracker wished he had something he could throw and break, but he wasn’t Starscream, or even Megatron, and fits of temper never were very satisfying, leaving him feeling ashamed for his lack of self-control.

He stood and went to the berth, curling up in the center. He’d really had the best of intentions. It was supposed to be funny, but it had instantly not been. Had Prime not stormed in when he had to drag Thundercracker away, there really would have been a fight.

Thundercracker sighed, knowing Megatron would be disappointed in him, not for the same reasons Prime said he was, but because he’d done something spectacularly stupid in expecting the Autobots to think a prank from him would be entertaining rather than lighting the fuse on a powder keg. A powder keg he was here to prevent ever exploding.

He did think as Prime had told him to. He thought until he dropped into recharge about what he could possibly do differently than he had been.

Two days later, he still had no answer.

~

Thundercracker tried, he reassured himself over and over. He had gone back out once his confinement ended, and sat in the common room day after day. He read his datapads -keeping a tight grip on them- after drinking his energon -which he never took his optics off of- and did everything he could to put up with and ignore the smug looks and undisguised snickering at his expense, but then he just… couldn’t anymore. He had retreated to Prime’s room and stayed there except when he had to go out for energon, and he tried to time that for when the common room would be emptiest.

He still overheard the same snippets of conversation every time he dared to leave Prime’s quarters, and that too, was wearing him down.

“Poor Bluestreak.”

“Thundercracker doesn’t know how good he’s got it here with us.”

“I can’t wait for Blue to come home, I miss him so much.”

“I’ll just be glad for the break on ‘Con-sitting.”

“Yeah, well, at least he’s not sneaking around spying on everything anymore.”

“True. I’m glad we don’t have to put up with him while trying to refuel anymore.”

“Seriously! He makes my fragging tanks turn, just waiting for him to go ‘Con and start tearing someone apart!”

Thundercracker lay curled on the berth, staring at the wall, and knew what was happening to him. He was depressed and he couldn’t shake it. Megatron was going to be so disappointed in him. His first _real_ chance to prove himself after all his well-known doubts about the war, and he had failed. He wasn’t going to get to go home smiling proudly that he’d done his duty, helped peace one little step forward. No, he was going home in shame, horrified by the thought that it would only be for two weeks and then he’d have to come back. He would have to endure more of the same, endless, unbearable hell he had for the last four months. The thought made him want to weep, but he didn’t dare. If he started, he might not be able to stop.

~

Thundercracker blinked open his optics, hand coming up shakily to wipe at his face, cheeks heating as his vents caught on another sob. It was impossible to hold Megatron’s gaze, and he looked down in shame even as Soundwave brushed his mind lightly, trying to soothe him as he withdrew.

The struggle for control over his emotions was lost all over again as Soundwave wound his arms around Thundercracker’s shoulders and crooned softly by his audial, the light harmonics conveying sympathy and a wish to comfort that Soundwave would never try to express with words. Thundercracker broke down, but didn’t manage to hide his face before catching the look Megatron and Starscream shared.

“You are not going back,” Megatron said.

“Seriously. If Soundwave’s gonna be all openly parental and slag, it’s gotta be bad.”

Thundercracker hiccupped a sobbing laugh at Skywarp’s words, and shook his helm. “I’m bein’ stupid.”

“Nonsense.” Megatron shifted his embrace, standing and depositing Thundercracker in his trine mates’ arms. “Get him some energon and clean him up. Soundwave, with me. I want to see just what would upset one of my finest so badly.”

Thundercracker hid his face in Skywarp’s neck, and just tried not to think for a while.


	2. Bluestreak

[](http://imgur.com/V6v9n6D)

Bluestreak ran toward his friends, laughing and calling out to them. He launched at Prowl, the mech who had found him and taken him in, and helped him so long ago, practically a creator, certainly a loving and supportive mentor. Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Prowl’s neck, hugging him tight, excited to see him. Excited to see everyone that had come out to greet him on his return visit from the Decepticons.

“Hi! Oh my gosh, I missed you all so much! Hi, Optimus! Hi, Jazz!” Bluestreak squealed a little, doorwings fluttering. He bounced happily as Prowl set him back, and beamed a smile around at Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Ironhide too. “You guys-”

“Bluestreak,” Prowl said firmly. “Come. Ratchet will check you over, then we can begin the debriefing.”

Bluestreak rolled his optics, but leave it to Prowl to be all business first. He followed along, arms swinging, smiling at them all as he was surrounded and led right to the medbay. He endured the scans, chewing on his lip to keep from babbling excitedly about all the things he wanted to. Prowl had said debrief, and Ratchet and Wheeljack were acting like he’d been severely wounded in battle or something with all the quiet, urgent words and precise scans.

Bluestreak arched an optic ridge as he realized that one of the scanners was downloading his base coding. He shook his helm and laughed at them both, poking fun at their behavior. “Guys, really, what is all this about? I had a _great_ time. No one hurt me, no one even tried to, and they sure didn’t do anything to me that I wouldn’t notice.”

“We have to be sure, Blue,” Ratchet said, his voice soft and hand gentle on Bluestreak’s shoulder.

Bluestreak tipped his helm, flummoxed -and not a little disturbed- to be on the receiving end of Ratchet’s ‘you’re not going to die, I promise (when everyone knew the mech was totally going to die)’ tone.

Bluestreak shifted to the side, and stretched out on his back to nap. If he was going to be stuck here, he’d rather rest a bit. The previous night had been rather exhausting, and based on the reactions he was getting so far, Bluestreak suspected he had a lot of work to do to convince his friends that he’d been treated well.

~

Bluestreak sat comfortably in a chair in Rung’s equally comfortably decorated office -those were some really cool ship models on the shelves- across from the mech -who looked really _un_ comfortable, but like he was trying to hide it- and smiled benignly.

Poor Rung, but in a way, Rung was a great choice for Bluestreak to tell his tale to. He didn’t really know Bluestreak personally anymore, and he was known for being very calm and fair and non-judgmental, at least back in the day. He just seemed so much smaller than Bluestreak remembered him, and wary. And worried. Yup, he definitely looked worried. Of course, Bluestreak was only too aware that this particular session wasn’t private, so maybe that was part of what was bothering Rung? Prowl had said ‘debrief’, but when Ratchet and Wheeljack couldn’t get anything but positive words about his experience out of Bluestreak, they had conferred in low voices, and instead of at a table with all the officers sitting around it, Bluestreak found himself planted in front of the Autobots’ only fully-trained remaining psychologist, and Pits did he have his work cut out for him with all the Autobots returning from Earth and the end of the war and all.

Bluestreak didn’t mind being watched as he relayed his experiences. Alone or not wouldn’t change his story, and he decided he’d tell it all. Every detail. He had nothing to be ashamed of after all, and if they wanted to be embarrassed by his honesty, well, that was their fault for thinking he was delusional, or had been intimidated into lying or something, and making him talk to Rung instead of just believing that he had a good time, made friends like he was supposed to, and that it was an overall positive experience for him.

“Ok,” Bluestreak said. “Where do I start? Cuz I really want to see everyone and say hi, and I want to hear about all the fun everyone had with Thundercracker, and I missed everyone, and playing, like, Forza with Sides and Sunny, and chatting with Beachcomber, and target practice with Ironhide, so I’d really like to get all this debriefing stuff out of the way and get on with my actual visit.”

Rung blinked, then nodded, stylus held ready over his datapad. “We could start at the beginning if you like?”

Bluestreak nodded too, and smiled. “Well, I was really nervous that first day.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Right?” Bluestreak snickered. “Well, so there I was, walking with Megatron, and like, totally surrounded by big Decepticons-”

~

Bluestreak felt small, like, ridiculously _little_ as he walked behind Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave. They were formed in this little ‘V’ with Megatron leading. Then behind Bluestreak, Skywarp was waving to all the Decepticons lining the path to the main tower the Decepticons had been reconstructing, his wings perked up proudly, a huge smile on his face. And holy slag, there were _a lot_ of Decepticons out and watching. They were cheering, calling Bluestreak’s name, and waving at him. When he finally dared a half-smile and gave a tiny wave back, the crowd went absolutely wild!

Bluestreak boggled, optics so wide he was surprised the lenses hadn’t just fallen right out yet, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Just what were the Decepticons so happy about? Primus, that was a scary thought. Bluestreak knew that he wasn’t to be killed or harmed in _any_ way, but what did Decepticons consider ‘harmed’? Was he ‘unharmed’ so long as he was kept fed and functioning? Were they all cheering so loud because they couldn’t wait to throw him in some pit and make him fight for his life?

Prime’s last words to him had been, “Be strong.”

Prowl, stoic, logical, reasonable, self-controlled Prowl, the mech that had saved his life so long ago when he had found him half-crazed, armed with a gun he was scary accurate with, but no memories of anything before that -and too young to have been on Praxus’ security forces- had looked like he was going to cry.

That was probably more frightening than all the Decepticons being so excited to see him.

Once they entered the tower’s lift, Starscream and Soundwave moved to the side, and Megatron turned to smile down at Bluestreak. Ok, _that_ was more frightening than just about anything else all day. “They’re quite excited that you are finally here.”

Bluestreak just smiled, the expression feeling a little weak, for once unable to think of a single thing to say. Megatron chuckled, turning toward the lift doors as they opened.

“Come.”

Bluestreak hurried after Megatron, glancing back as Soundwave and the Seekers followed him out.

“This will be your suite,” Megatron said, stopping at the only visible door. To their left and curving up were stairs that went who-knew-where. “My rooms are up there.” Megatron pointed up the stairs. “So if ever you need anything, and for some reason the comms are down, just come up.”

“Comms?” Bluestreak asked. He still had comms? Wasn’t Soundwave blocking that? He looked back at the tall telepath, but those masks made it pretty impossible to guess what he was thinking. Pits, he could be making funny faces behind them, and no one would ever know. Soundwave’s visor brightened just a little bit, but Bluestreak wasn’t sure if he was listening in on his thoughts, or because he was being looked at.

“Of course. However, in the interest of the program working the way it is meant to, you won’t be able to contact the Autobots unless there’s an emergency. I would hope you would be willing to let me attempt to solve any issues first.”

“Uh… yeah. I, uh… didn’t figure I’d be able to call home at all.”

Megatron keyed a code in from a datapad, and the door slid open. “Preferably, the Hostage is separated from his home state completely for the first round. It allows the mech to immerse himself completely in the new culture. We will not attempt to contact Thundercracker either.” There was a _look_ cast over Bluestreak’s head.

Bluestreak followed Megatron in, glancing back in time to catch Skywarp looking at the floor, his hands clasped in front of him. He felt a little bad for the Seeker. Autobot intelligence said that Thundercracker and Skywarp were somewhere in the range of friends with frequent benefits to maybe even bondmates. Bluestreak wasn’t going to ask though, and so scampered after Megatron, only to stumble to a halt.

It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was _not_ what he expected the Decepticons to have, let alone offer to him. Even if he ended up sharing with someone, this was _amazing_! He looked back toward the door, but the other three weren’t entering, so maybe he wasn’t sharing?

Seriously? _All_ of this was for him?

Megatron chuckled. “Of course, it’s for you.”

Oops. Had he said that out loud? Bluestreak ducked his helm a little, but that didn’t last long, not with the really nice décor calling to him.

The reception room, or lounge was maybe a better word for it, had plush, comfortable seating and low tables spread around. There was a conversation table between a few sofas with a really pretty etched metal bowl on it. Bluestreak gravitated toward it, recognizing the gelled energon treats as something Sideswipe had made once while they were still on Earth.

“Oh wow.”

Megatron laughed softly and plucked two of the goodies from the bowl, huge hand holding them both out toward Bluestreak. Bluestreak tentatively took one, and the other disappeared into Megatron’s mouth. Bluestreak carefully bit into his, optics going wide and bright as the sweet flavor all but sparkled in his mouth.

“Oh _wow_!” Bluestreak finished the treat, but then stopped himself from grabbing another. He didn’t need to be greedy after all. Instead, he smiled and pointed at the bowl. “That’s really pretty.”

“We’ve been working hard to raise our standard of living.” Megatron smiled, then walked toward the wall of windows that stood opposite the entry door. “After living in a rusting heap under the ocean, all Decepticons are happy to work a little extra to have a few luxuries. Art has been one of the first endeavors taken up for pleasure and aesthetics.”

“So a Decepticon made that bowl?”

Megatron nodded, pushing open one of the panels of transparasteel and walking out onto the balcony. Bluestreak trailed after him, mind bouncing from the notion of an artistic Decepticon to, “Oh, holy slag, what a view!”

“We’re focusing on this building,” Megatron explained, “but construction has now moved outward a little. We’re so few.”

Bluestreak moved to the railing, looking down so he didn’t have to face the actual, genuine sadness in Megatron’s tone and on his face. “Us too,” he offered, then looked up, pushing a smile onto his face. “But that’s why I’m here! And this is all really nice. Like, _really_ nice!”

Megatron tipped his helm toward the door. “Come, you still haven’t seen your berth room or the wash room.”

The berth room was just as plush as the lounge, with a big, soft-looking berth and attached wash room. It was all so clean, and bright, and _open_. Bluestreak stared around in awe, reminding himself not to say out loud how the Autobots didn’t have anything like this. “Where did you get all the fabric?” he settled on asking.

“Earth,” Megatron answered simply, leading him into the wash room. “Humans value particular metals that we have in abundance. It is nothing to offer it in trade to them for the durable cloth we want to make our environment more comfortable. It’s a balancing act, finding the line between well-deserved comfort and needless opulence.” He gestured at the empty oil tub. “My apologies for that not being functional yet, but it falls into needlessly opulent category at this time.”

“Heck, I’m just tickled to get a private wash rack. This is all really great.” Bluestreak beamed a real smile up at Megatron, then once again walked after him as he was led back out into the main room.

“Of course, since you lack an oil bath, I am always at your disposal for a polishing.”

Bluestreak had no idea what to do with that purring tone and shockingly sexy smile, so just stammered a soft, “O-o-okay.”

Megatron gestured toward Skywarp, who was hanging around the entry door with Starscream and Soundwave still. “Skywarp has particularly clever fingers as well.”

Bluestreak felt his face heat as Skywarp’s wings fluttered and he winked. He almost jumped out of his plating when Megatron’s hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Is there anything you need now?”

“Uh… no. This is all really cool.”

Megatron’s chin dipped in a nod, and Soundwave and Starscream were heading out the door. Bluestreak was handed the datapad that Megatron had looked at earlier to open the door. “This has pertinent comm channels on it. If you need anything, comm me, otherwise, make yourself at home.”

Bluestreak felt his blush return with a vengeance as Skywarp waved at him, wings perked up at a flirty angle before Megatron nudged him out the door.

He watched the door slide shut, and had the instant urge to run and check if it was locked. He managed to rein it in, but only just barely. He could check it in a few minutes after he was sure they weren’t standing out there chatting away, waiting for him to try and escape or something.

Bluestreak looked around again, and thought that maybe escape would be nuts even if he didn’t understand how much was riding on his cooperation with this whole Honorable Hostage deal. His new _apartment_ was really pretty slagging awesome. He thumbed on the datapad, committing the information to memory, at least Megatron’s commline, rather than risk uploading something.

Come on. They were _Decepticons_ after all, and he wasn’t stupid, just… flummoxed.

Really. This was kind of nuts. Why didn’t the Autobots have this stuff? They were still living like they had been back in the _Ark_ , like a military unit, running duty and monitor shifts, and living in a bunker with no windows and schedules, and checking in before going outside and when they came back in.

Bluestreak wandered over to the treats and picked one up, turning it over in his fingers. It was just a cube, a simple shape for a simple treat, nothing all _that_ special. Not unless one considered that even the Autobots weren’t making them, that they were still under rations, that Bluestreak had been sharing quarters with three other mechs so they could conserve space and energy. He felt wasteful in this big apartment with its pretty, carefully etched bowl and tasty energon goodies, with that huge berth just waiting for him to sink into it.

He brightened suddenly. Bluestreak could absolutely do what he was here to do, and while he was at it, he could see if he could learn about what the Decepticons were doing differently from the Autobots, then when he went home, he would have something else he could contribute.

Perfect.

Bluestreak popped the treat into his mouth, giggling as it melted, the sweetness making his jaw tingle a little. It was going to be an awesome four months if this held up.

~

Bluestreak groaned, shifting on the cloud he was recharging on. What was that sound? _Primus, this is soft_ , he thought, pushing his face into that plush cloud. Was that a chime? Why would he hear a chime if he was floating in the sky? It sounded like a door chime. Were there doors floating in the sky too?

Wait a minute. Bluestreak couldn’t fly, so why was he on a cloud?

He forced his optics open, but the cloud notion was only reinforced by the soft white cushion he was sprawled across.

Oh, there was that door chime again.

Bluestreak tensed, doorwings snapping upward on his back as he pushed himself up to his elbows and lifted his head.

“Oh slag!”

The chime went off again, and Bluestreak scrambled in an ungainly flail to the edge of the very well-cushioned berth. He managed to get his feet under him, and rushed out to the main room. Megatron was going beat him to slag! How long had he left the former warlord outside his door? Too long, that was the answer!

Bluestreak fell against the keypad, the door sliding open even as he rushed to explain. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe how deep in recharge I was! It was like I heard the call, but I couldn’t figure out what it was, and my processors just wouldn’t switch on, and then I like, suddenly knew what I was hearing, and I came just as fast as I could, oh please don’t be mad at me, I didn’t mean-” He cut off looking up at a grinning Skywarp. “Uh…”

Skywarp snickered. “Morning! Can I come in?”

Bluestreak stepped back, making room for Skywarp to enter, and then watching him stride in and head directly for the energon dispenser along the wall.

“Don’t worry about not hearing me. Even Megatron just passes right the slag out on the new padding. Screamer’s tested it for sedative properties or something, but my best guess is it’s just comfortable as all slag, and after how many fragging vorns of recharging on slabs, our bodies are just blissed out.” Skywarp turned away from the dispenser with two cubes, and motioned toward the sofas. “Here. Breakfast time! Then I get to show you around.”

“Show me around?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to go out?” Skywarp flopped onto a couch, holding out one of the cubes for Bluestreak to take. “Everyone’s gonna be really disappointed though, but Megatron said it was up to you, so they can just be disappointed if you’re not quite ready yet.”

Bluestreak took the energon, sipping it a little as he sat on the other sofa across from Skywarp. He thought about it, and it was pretty damn daunting. Just go out and walk around where a bunch of Decepticons were? Really? Yeah, that was intimidating, but also kind of what he was there for. He took another drink, then shook his helm. “Nah, it’s ok. Let’s go out. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel, like, snubbed or anything by me, that’d be rude.”

Skywarp snickered a little, but drained his cube, then waited for Bluestreak to finish while outlining his plan for the day.

Bluestreak was overwhelmed within the first half hour of his tour. He tried to memorize all the places Skywarp listed off, and tried to absorb all the names and what they were working on, but there was just way too much. Everyone greeted Bluestreak excitedly, looking genuinely happy to see him. Scrapper even took the time to explain the Constructicons’ latest building plan to him, and stuttered over thanking Bluestreak when he complimented his and his team’s work to date.

“You know, this isn’t _anything_ like I was expecting,” Bluestreak admitted, “I didn’t think mechs would be _happy_ to see me, and I hope this doesn’t insult you, but I guess I didn’t think Decepticons would _be_ happy at all. I really like my room, and this is really nice of you to take time out of your work to show me around like this, especially since my processors are kind of spinning and I really don’t know how much of it saved, in fact,” he looked around. “Where are we now?”

Skywarp laughed. “ _You_ are my job now, and I like it. This is being called the social floor for now by pretty much everyone. It’s just empty this time of day because everyone’s working on their projects.” He pointed. “Over there’s something like a patio, come on. Eventually we’ll have more entertainment type stuff in here too. Swindle was talking about a trading post, and I think it was Brawl that said we need a bar and performance stage.”

Bluestreak slipped through the door with Skywarp and onto a large mostly open space. Two sides looked out over the unfinished city, large columns reaching up what looked like three floors to brace the corner of the building. Tables were scattered around, surrounded by chairs, and the lighting was just dim enough to invite a little intimacy between friends or couples, but still bright enough to give the space a cheery atmosphere. Bluestreak was pretty amazed. Where were all the pointy jags reminiscent of weaponry? Where was the austere, ‘do your duty, or Megatron will slag you’ décor? Why were they all being _nice_ to him?

Skywarp flashed a grin at Bluestreak. “So yeah, ok, everyone thought _sure_ the war’s over! Yeah right! And we were focusing on weapons and getting ready for the next battle anyways, but then Megatron called a huge meeting and told us he had an idea.” He leaned on the railing, gesturing out to the still city. “He said that he started the revolution because mechs were living in squalor. Because the Council was corrupt, but mostly because he saw people starving every day.”

Bluestreak stepped up beside the Seeker, optics on his face, and trying to ignore the heat in his own for speaking out loud again when he hadn’t meant to.

“A lot of really bad slag went down. Vos. Praxus.” Skywarp tipped his helm at Bluestreak. “Megatron said that we could keep waging our war, because we’re all the very best left of our kind, so we’d probably keep going for a long time yet, but then there really aren’t that many of us left. Not on either side. So it was time for the Decepticons to show just how brave we really are. It was time for us to be brave enough to _stop_ fighting, to stop _bracing_ for a fight, and to start trying to live real lives again.”

Skywarp smiled down at Bluestreak. “He’s really charismatic and junk when he gets on a roll.”

Bluestreak snickered. “And that’s when he called Prime and suggested this old Honorable Hostage thing.”

Skywarp dipped his helm in a nod. “Yup. It’s _old_ tradition, which some of us yelled about until we understood it. I mean, didn’t we just finish fighting a war to start _new_ traditions, not just bring back all the same old tired slag that caused the problems in the first place?

“But then Megatron told us about how it worked. How the Hostage was really viewed and treated.” Skywarp shifted, leaning sideways on the railing so he could face Bluestreak. “You’re really brave, you know? You’re all alone here, and TC’s all alone with the Autobots. We’re _trusting_ one another for the first time ever. You get to see how we really are, and TC’s going to come back after getting to really see how Autobots are. Like you said. You weren’t expecting any of this, but this is us.”

Skywarp pushed himself off the railing, tipping his helm back toward the doors, so Bluestreak followed. “I mean think about it. I know us ‘Cons were violent on the battlefield, but then so were you Autobots. We all saw Megatron and Prime rolling around in the dirt, kicking and hitting, and calling each other stupid insults, brawling like turbopuppies with a mean streak, right?”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak agreed. He even giggled a little, and reminded himself not to refer to Megatron as ‘Old Buckethead’ anymore.

Skywarp chuckled a little too, leading the way to a lift. “Well, we didn’t do that after battle. Sure, we had our infighting, but resources were so slim that if you got hurt or hurt someone else anywhere but while fighting an Autobot, your aft got tossed in the brig. A lot of the time we were all bored on Earth though. I mean, you try living at the bottom of the slagging ocean where you can’t just step outside for a little while.

“This is our chance at that new, free life. We want to show you everything we’re trying to do because we- **I** _want_ you to go back to your friends in a few months and tell them how cool we really are. I want TC to come home and say, ‘Yeah, Warp, you’d never believe how awesome those ‘Bots are!’ But I can say, ‘Sure I can! I got to hang with Bluestreak!’ And it’ll be one step closer to that stable peace Megatron promised us so long ago and that we’ve all heard Prime preaching on about. Get it?”

Bluestreak exited the lift beside Skywarp, recognizing his floor, and nodded slowly. “So this is all real. This is all sincere because you guys really do want peace as much as we do.”

It wasn’t a question, but Skywarp said, “Yep! Oh, hey this way, if it’s cool? Megatron invited us for evening energon with him and Starscream.” He set a foot on the bottom stair, waiting for Bluestreak.

“Oh! Yeah, that’d be fine.”

“You’re not too worn out?”

Bluestreak grinned and shook his helm. “No, and even if I was, I have that amazing berth to pass out in later, so I’ll catch up on my beauty sleep then.”

Skywarp laughed, then headed up the stairs. Megatron met them at the door, inviting them out to the balcony where Starscream was already sitting with some smaller containers of energon and a platter of treats. He stood when Bluestreak and Skywarp arrived, even going so far as to pet Skywarp’s wing as he smiled down at Bluestreak.

“How was the day?” Megatron asked, pulling a chair out from the table and motioning Bluestreak to it.

Bluestreak sat, face heating a little at the cordial behavior. He should probably try to get used to it, but even after talking all day with Skywarp, it still felt strange coming from someone he’d feared all his life. “It was fun. Skywarp’s a good tour guide.”

Skywarp preened, wingtips twitching as he took a seat to Bluestreak’s left. “We were talking about how different Decepticons are in reality from how Bluestreak got to see us before.” He sipped at his energon, then popped a treat into his mouth. “I like him, boss. I think this could really work.”

Megatron seemed pleased by that, but let the topic drop in favor of listening to Starscream go back to relaying something about the labs and his project. Bluestreak took a guess and assumed his and Skywarp’s arrival had interrupted the report, so he kept quiet, drinking his energon, and smiling as Skywarp made a game out of silently pushing him to eat more of the goodies.

Bluestreak nudged a tiny gelled cube back toward Skywarp, shaking his head. His tank might rupture if he tried to cram one more drop of energon into it. Besides, he was more intrigued by Megatron and Starscream. “You guys are so normal.”

Oops. He’d said that out loud hadn’t he?

Megatron laughed, but Starscream tipped his helm. “In what way?”

Bluestreak’s mouth worked for a minute, trying to come up with a way to say the thoughts rattling around in his head without being insulting. “Well, you’re like a couple. I mean. Ok, I’m sorry, cuz this was mean of us, but us ‘Bots kinda made jokes about you two being an old unhappily bonded couple with the way you always fought and how you, Starscream, were always trying to kill Megatron…” He trailed off, feeling the heat burn his face as all three Decepticons laughed.

“They are bonded,” Skywarp said. “Been that way since pretty quick after our trine joined the cause.”

Starscream snickered, glancing at Megatron, then back to Bluestreak. “We fight, but it’s worth it for the make-up interfacing. Besides, _someone_ has to keep him on his guard or he’ll go soft in his old age.”

Bluestreak shook his helm. “It’s just that, well, you know, on Earth mostly, it looked kinda like abuse to us.” He wanted to hide under the table the moment the words were out, was absolutely sure he had just crossed every line of propriety. He could see in his mind perfectly how Prowl’s doorwings would snap up, optics flaring as he hissed Bluestreak’s name in reprimand.

All Starscream and Megatron did was shrug a little and share a kind of sad look.

Megatron straightened, optics on a gelled treat he held. “We were very unhappy. I would dare say things had never been so hard before, and it took the renewal of our bond to realize how atrophied and damaged it, and _we_ , had become.” The treat was consumed, and Megatron met Bluestreak’s gaze. “Stabilizing our bond is, I believe, partly what cleared my mind enough to see just how far things had fallen. I accepted Prime’s next offer of peace talks because we could not continue on the way we had been for so many years.

“We were banging our helms against an immovable wall.”

“Madness,” Starscream murmured, wings dipping a little.

Megatron nodded. “The very definition of it.” He gave Bluestreak a small, wry smile. “Lesson of the day; don’t crash land on an alien planet where your body and processors lay dormant and stasis-locked for four million years, but your spark spins on, yearning more and more for its mate, and slowly driving you crazy.”

“So you weren’t always crazy?”

Primus, what was wrong with him tonight? Bluestreak wished he could suck the words back into his mouth, but the three Decepticons just burst into loud, honest-sounding laughter. He hid behind his energon until it was gone, then chewed his lip until they quieted enough to hear him. “Sorry. That was really rude.”

“That was funny,” Skywarp said, pushing lightly at Bluestreak’s shoulder.

“It was honest,” Starscream added, still smiling as he stood and stretched. “It is getting late, however, and I have a million more things to do tomorrow.”

Megatron stood too, so Bluestreak rose as well. “It is late.” He held a hand out to Bluestreak. “You may join us in our berth if you would like?”

And there was that purr and flirty smile that Bluestreak just had no idea how to handle when coming from Megatron.

“Uh… Thanks, but I think I’ll just recharge in my own berth.” Bluestreak wasn’t sure he would ever want to spend the night with Megatron and Starscream, but even more than that, they were bonded. Wow. They were an actual bonded couple. No, he didn’t want to get in the middle of that.

“As you wish,” Megatron replied, then walked Bluestreak to the door. Starscream walked with Skywarp after them, their voices too low for Bluestreak to hear.

Good nights were bid all around, and Skywarp trailed after Bluestreak back down the stairs. “It’s cool if you aren’t interested, but Starscream said to make sure you know that me and TC have spent plenty of nights with him and Megatron. He thought that you might be saying no partly because of the bond.”

Bluestreak blinked up at Skywarp. “Oh… Uh, well that was something I was a little worried about, but I just don’t think I want to. Uh… Yet.”

Skywarp grinned, and propped himself against the wall next to Bluestreak’s door as he entered the code. “It’s cool. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Screamer just wanted me to explain that the bond isn’t a factor for who they interface with. Can’t be bonded to a Seeker and expect monogamy. We’ll always _need_ to be with our trine at some point. Now,” he purred, leaning in closer to Bluestreak. “I’m already inspiring jealousy because my rank gives me the duty and honor of being your liaison, but if you really wanted to make my life even more epic, you could let me suck your spike or something some time.”

Skywarp winked, a finger trailing the upper edge of Bluestreak’s doorwing as he stepped away. “Night~ See you for breakfast!”

~

“Sleep good?” Skywarp asked, breezing into Bluestreak’s lounge when he stepped back out of the way.

“Yeah. Prime needs to work out some kind of trade agreement with you guys for some of those berth cushions. Pits, he needs to come here and visit for a day or two himself. I think that’ll be one of the first things I tell him when I get to talk to him. It’s time for the Autobots to stop living in a bunker.”

“Ugh! Really? Poor TC, I bet he’s going flying every day so he can get out from inside the walls. We were all slagging tired of that.” Skywarp brought two cubes over to the sofas again, offering Bluestreak one as they sat down. “So, you got the grand tour yesterday, and the Constructicons have most everyone not involved in something else important doing some big job, so is there anything special you want to do today?”

Bluestreak shrugged, sipping his energon. He did have one idea that he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind, but that wouldn’t really take much time, and he kind of doubted Skywarp was serious anyway. He was kind of flirty by nature it seemed, though not as bad as Sideswipe, but that might only be because they weren’t close friends yet.

“Why’s your face turning pink?” Skywarp grinned at him. “Are there naughty thoughts in that cute little helm of yours?”

Bluestreak felt his face heat more, and so hid behind his energon. Skywarp snickered, drained his cube, then slid gracefully to his knees. A light push, and the conversation table was no longer between them.

“Been thinking on my offer, huh?”

Bluestreak was pretty sure if his face got any hotter the components would begin to melt, and he couldn’t tear his optics off the deepening garnet of Skywarp’s. “Well, it’s, ya know… Not every d-day-” He stammered as Skywarp’s hands smoothed up from his knees, stroking his thighs.

Large hands.

Holy slag, did he really have one of the Decepticons’ elite on his knees in front of him willing to- Wait. Was he really willing?

Bluestreak’s hands came down on top of Skywarp’s. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right? I mean it’s hotter than smelted slag, the idea that is, but I don’t want you doing this out of some obligation because I’m the Hostage or something.”

Skywarp smiled and shook his helm. “Nah, that’s not it. The whole thing with ‘facing between the Hostage and the lucky mechs he chooses from his host state is for mutual fun and just to strengthen the emotional bonds. I _want_ to do this. I like it anyways, and if you want me to, then cool, but if you don’t, then that’s cool too. Just like Megatron and Starscream want you, and like,” he chuckled, “most of the Decepticons, but it’s still up to you to say yes if you want it too.”

“I don’t really get why they- why _you_ would want _me_.”

Skywarp purred, his wings fluttering playfully. “Because you’re slagging cute if nothing else.”

Bluestreak noted how Skywarp’s hands hadn’t moved since he caught them. He had to wonder too if he’d analyze the motivation behind an Autobot wanting to interface with him this way. He didn’t think he would, and let go of Skywarp’s hands. “You’re sure?”

“Are you?” Skywarp shot back, hands still not moving.

Bluestreak nodded, then finished off his energon, before slumping a bit more in his seat. Skywarp took the cube with one hand while the other slid up Bluestreak’s thigh. His optics stayed on Bluestreak’s face, and he gave him a sly smile.

“I’m good at this.”

Bluestreak grinned back and relaxed. “Talk a big game there.”

Skywarp kneaded the plating of his thighs, then gripped them and tugged until Bluestreak’s aft was on the edge of the cushion. He dipped his helm down to exhale heated air over Bluestreak’s interface cover and didn’t bother to answer, but the look he gave Bluestreak was one of complete confidence.

That expression was familiar even if the color of the plating and frame model were different, and it put Bluestreak at ease. Skywarp teased along his seams, fingertips, lips, and tongue gliding along until a quiet _click_ sounded. Skywarp purred a low rumbling note that sent a sizzle of pleasure up through Bluestreak. His spark gave a harder pulse, and his spike extended.

Skywarp licked and grazed his teeth lightly up and down the sides a few times before wrapping his hand around Bluestreak’s spike to squeeze and stroke it. When his lips closed around the tip, Bluestreak moaned, fingers curling over the edge of the sofa in a tight grip. His sensornet buzzed, respiration picking up as his frame heated, but there wasn’t enough air in the universe to cool him as Skywarp’s mouth caressed his spike with a smooth, but driving rhythm.

Every time Bluestreak thought he was going to overload, Skywarp backed off, slowed down, and waited until Bluestreak was squirming, but no longer pressed to the hard edge of release. Bluestreak didn’t know how many times Skywarp brought him close, but when he made to pull back again, Bluestreak’s hands clapped to the sides of the Seeker’s helm with a cry of dismay and need.

Skywarp’s low chuckle vibrated up Bluestreak’s spike, making that knot of lust tighten just a little bit more. He sucked harder, pace picking up, and Bluestreak came apart at his seams within seconds. White light burst across his vision, back arching and helm thrown back, a sharp, breathless sound breaking free.

The world was still tilting and spinning as Skywarp slowly pulled back, tongue swiping one last time over the tip of Bluestreak’s spike. He leaned forward, lifting a little to place a light kiss on Bluestreak’s chest plating, chuckling softly as his optics lifted.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Bluestreak responded, drained and feeling utterly strutless.

Skywarp snickered, rocking back to stand. He then bent and scooped Bluestreak up, startling him enough to make him grab at the Seeker. “Hush. Just taking you back to your berth. I’ll swing back by later and we can go sit outside or something. Ok?”

Bluestreak thought about it, but really there wasn’t much of an internal debate. That berth was slagging awesome, and the idea of getting to be lazy and nap after that circuit-blowing overload was really nice. He felt as Skywarp laid him on the berth, but his optics refused to peel back open. Bluestreak mumbled something as he sank into that cloud, already drifting, but even he didn’t know if he made actual words. His last memory before floating away was of a deep purr and gentle brush of fingers over his doorwing.

~

“There’re a lot of mechs around today,” Bluestreak commented as they walked toward what Skywarp had called the rec room. It was something of an all-purpose gaming and exercise space with a lot of things he recognized from Earth and was surprised the Decepticons had.

“It’s our day off. Once every ten, everyone gets to do whatever they want. It’s staggered so critical stuff is covered, but today’s one of those where just about everyone is free.”

“But you’re working,” Bluestreak pointed out.

Skywarp snickered and shook his helm. “You’re not really ‘work’, and I like hanging out with you.” He said it loud enough that it carried, causing Bluestreak’s to glance around, his attention drawn to all the rather envious looks Skywarp was receiving.

Bluestreak felt his face heat and wondered if the looks were just because Skywarp always got to be around him, or if they actually _knew_. Would Skywarp really have gone around telling the others that he had greeted Bluestreak all week for morning energon by kneeling between his thighs and making him shout? Or were they just guessing? Assuming?

“You know, you keep blushing all hot pink like that, and they’re all going to think about why.” Skywarp reached out and nudged Bluestreak’s shoulder, grinning widely at him. “And ‘Cons are a bunch of dirty-minded, pervy slaggers.”

His face was going to spontaneously combust, so as a distraction, Bluestreak gave Skywarp a playful shove back and shook his helm. “Now they can all think you’re being a dirty-minded, pervy slagger and I’m just declining your smutty offers to debauch innocent little me,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Skywarp whooped with laughter. “First,” he replied, holding out a finger, “ _that_ ‘innocent’ slag is exactly that. _Slag_. Because I’ve heard that pretty mouth of yours run when you’re getting close. Second,” he uncurled another finger, “you sure you want to play into half the Decepticons’ ‘big bad ‘Con, innocent-shivering-but-totally-wanting-it ‘Bot’ kink?” He paused, wings fluttering and perking up. “Actually, if the answer to that second one is yes, I know what we can do for the rest of the day.”

Bluestreak snorted a laugh, which only succeeded in drawing every last optic to him. A few mechs even walked over.

“Should come join our group,” Ramjet said. “We have some high grade.”

“I think it’s a little early for high grade for me,” Bluestreak said, offering a smile. “But thanks.”

“Hey! You’re a sniper, right?” Misfire shouted, bounding up. “Come be on my team! We’re playing Duck Hunt, and Barricade’s slagging me.”

Bluestreak giggled. “Thanks, but I’m kind of enjoying not having to shoot anything. Even in a game. It’s like a vacation,” he explained, not wanting to offend.

Misfire deflated a little, but accepted Bluestreak’s declining his invitation with good humor.

“He probably sucks at video games anyways,” Drag Strip called out. “Autobots are too serious for fun stuff.”

“Drag Strip,” Skywarp said in the most serious tone Bluestreak had ever heard him use.

Bluestreak waved him off though, and turned toward the Stunticon with a smirk. “You think so, huh?”

“Prove me wrong.”

Bluestreak rolled his optics. “I probably shouldn’t, not if you’re going to use such obvious tactics to get me to play with you.” All around him, Decepticons laughed, but Drag Strip only smirked back.

“Sounds like something a chicken would say to get out of a challenge he knows he’ll lose.”

Low ‘ooo’s sounded, even from Skywarp now that he saw Bluestreak wasn’t upset. Bluestreak snickered. “I suppose I could be convinced to play a few rounds of Forza.”

Drag Strip snorted, arm waving out as if trying to smack the word away. “Forza? Please. Everyone knows Gran Turismo’s better.”

It was Bluestreak’s turn to scoff. “Are you kidding me? GT5 can’t even keep up with Forza 3, Forza 4 blows it out of the water! The lighting alone! And don’t even get me started on the tracks in Gran Turismo! I mean come on, if they wanted to make the game look like slag, congrats, they succeeded.”

"You’re cracked. The controls for Forza are all in the wrong place!”

“I’m a fragging _car_ and I can’t help but ride the frelling wall in GT,” Bluestreak laughingly shouted back. “At least in Forza if you just tip right a little, you only go right a _little_.”

Drag Strip leaned his weight back, hip cocking to the side as he crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Sounds like you aren’t as good a driver as me then. I don’t ride the wall.”

“Was that a challenge?” someone yelled.

“I think that was a challenge!” someone else Bluestreak couldn’t see replied.

Drag Strip tipped his helm, and they both stared at one another. After a couple minutes of shouting from the other Decepticons, he flicked a hand out dismissively. “Aw, he wouldn’t step up anyways!”

Bluestreak shook his helm. “Put your money where your mouth is, kiddo.”

“Oh-ho! Really?!” Drag Strip laughed, stepping closer and pointing a finger at Bluestreak’s face, though he was still far enough back that it wasn’t threatening. Skywarp did shift just a little closer, but Bluestreak just propped his hands on his hips and met Drag Strip’s visor. “Ok, slagger. A race. Loser admits GT5 is the better game.”

“Fine. Except that when you lose, you have to say that Forza’s the better game.”

“To the race track!”

The cheer was taken up, and Bluestreak laughed as he was carried along with the crowd outside and a few streets over to a roadway that had been cleared of debris for the sole purpose of racing. Skywarp laughed, told Bluestreak that Drag Strip always started strong, but then faded as he got too hot toward the end, then stepped back to the sidelines.

Bluestreak transformed and revved his engine. He was going to lose. Drag Strip was a Formula 1 racer model. Even with his own modifications, Bluestreak just didn’t have the torque or horsepower to win, but that was no reason not to try. It was worth the price of admission alone to watch and listen to Dead End say, “On your marks. Get set. You’ll probably run me down and murder me when I say it, but… ugh… go or something.”

Bluestreak actually did better than he expected too, and even almost thought he could win when Drag Strip did indeed begin to slow just shy of the finish line. Losing wasn’t really a problem for Bluestreak, and he transformed, laughing as Drag Strip did a funny victory dance.

“Say it, loser!” Drag Strip said, pointing at Bluestreak, hips still wiggling side to side.

“GT5 is better.”

Drag Strip cupped his hand around his audial and leaned forward. “What was that? I think you’re going to have to say it loud and clear, and _specific_ -like.”

Bluestreak laughed again, looking around and using his hands to gesture for the mechs clustered around them to quiet down. “Gran Turismo is a better game than Forza.”

Drag Strips fists shot up into the air, and the crowd roared with applause. Bluestreak giggled helplessly as the Stunticon walked in a small circle, still celebrating his win. He strode over to Bluestreak, hooking an arm around his neck to tug him along.

“So now we go to our quarters, and I spank you in GT!”

Bluestreak stumbled along sideways for a few steps until Drag Strip eased up his grip, but he was happy to be dragged along. He was definitely in favor of a few rounds of the game, and since it was still fairly early, there was plenty of time before he was expected to join Megatron in his quarters for evening energon. Besides, it was probably a good thing to hang out with the other Decepticons too. He _was_ supposed to be making friends after all.

The noise level never changed as they moved back indoors. Mechs were shouting and calling out insults and dares, and bickering good-naturedly. It was so much like home, Bluestreak couldn’t help but laugh along with them. He was challenged to more games and races, but the Stunticons had clearly claimed him for the day, and Bluestreak was aware enough that to ditch them now would be insulting. He had a choice, and he knew it, but Skywarp had made a point of repeating what a status-booster spending time with the Hostage was. The Stunticons would lose face with the others if Bluestreak abandoned them for someone else.

Truly, there were a lot worse things than hanging out with the Stunticons and playing video games. Of course, playing a video game somehow turned into a wrestling match -that was probably Bluestreak’s fault for playfully gloating, but he wasn’t expecting to win that round- which then turned into an actual, honest-to-Primus tickle fight, which caused Wildrider to overload, and before he knew it, Bluestreak was root-deep in Breakdown with _Motormaster_ over them both and stretching Bluestreak’s valve in all the right, circuit-blowing, mind-melting, ‘oh-oh-oh- _there_ -yes!’ ways.

The group grooming and polishing session -“Have to get you all shiny for the boss, right?”-turned into another round of dizzying interfacing. In the haze of post-overload bliss, Bluestreak lay in a tangle of limbs, a bit squished by Dead End and probably crushing Drag Strip’s leg under his own aft. It was then that he realized that Skywarp wasn’t there with them. He tried to recall when he last saw the Seeker. He had been there after the race…

Bluestreak shook his helm, exhausted. He still had to somehow get up and make it back to Megatron’s quarters for evening energon, but couldn’t see how that would happen yet. He really didn’t think his legs would work.

Oh, legs… Who was-

Wildrider gave him a wicked grin as Bluestreak lifted his helm to look at who was licking and nibbling at his inner thigh. Bluestreak dropped his helm back, making someone say, “Oof!”

“I don’t know if I can again.”

The pile of mechs shifted, and then suddenly Bluestreak was being scooped up in large, powerful arms. “Enough for now,” Motormaster said, and carried Bluestreak over to the large, cushioned platform that served as the Stunticons’ recharge berth.

Bluestreak was cuddled in to the large frame, Breakdown joining them first and pressing himself in close. There was grumbling and shoving, and the occasional curse, but all in all, Bluestreak was deliriously comfortable. He would just nap for a little while, then go see Megatron.

Yeah…

~

Bluestreak sat outside on his balcony, watching as Starscream and Skywarp wheeled through the air with another trine of Seekers. Megatron sat beside him, lounging in a sprawl-legged slump in the rather comfortable chairs. It seemed that once the Decepticons discovered how to make their cushioning quickly and cheaply, they were only too happy to apply it to everything.

Energon sat mostly consumed on the little table between them, and Bluestreak thought they just needed sunlight and an ocean before them to be one of those human beach vacation ads. He certainly felt relaxed enough, and snickered.

“What is it amusing you?” Megatron asked, helm rolling to the side to look at Bluestreak, red optics piercing. Bluestreak thought he might be getting used to the sheer _presence_ Megatron carried with him because he didn’t really feel intimidated anymore by him.

“Just thinking that my life’s a vacation.” Bluestreak paused, a frowning lightly. “I should probably do something useful.”

Megatron chuckled. “You are useful. And you are performing your duties admirably.”

“What duties again? I mean, sure, I’m out and being seen, but this is all kind of you guys being nice to me while I enjoy the slag out of it.”

Laughing a little more, Megatron shook his head. “You’re _letting_ them befriend you. It’s more difficult for some than others, but according to the latest gossip you now have the Stunticons researching whether it’s legal to court a Hostage.”

Bluestreak blinked at that. “Whoa.” He paused, turning that idea over in his head for a while. “Is it?”

Megatron shrugged. “I have no information on it, however, I believe actual bonding would end your term as Hostage as it could have be seen as ‘defecting’ by the originating state, or even in the most positive sense, ex-patriotism. A new Hostage would have to be chosen.”

“And then I couldn’t laze about all day playing video games and napping.”

Megatron laughed harder. “If you wish to contribute in another way, I would only encourage it, but it is not required.” He shifted, sitting up straighter. “I might even have something you would enjoy attempting and it would benefit Decepticon and Autobot alike. Eventually,” he added, tipping his helm in something that could almost have been a shrug.

Bluestreak sat up a little straighter himself. He’d received any number of gifts, but this sounded different. Maybe something in Megatron’s tone, or that almost-but-not-quite shrug that on anyone else Bluestreak would have called nervousness. He gasped as Megatron revealed a small, raw crystal.

“It is not from Praxus, but I hope you like it, and perhaps have some innate talent from your culture to make it grow and thrive.”

Bluestreak couldn’t find his voice for a moment, and reached out to take the crystal, cupping it in both hands. It was indeed small, but it was clear, the spectrum dancing around inside the facets as he moved it. “This is gorgeous! I don’t know if I can make it do anything, but I’ll try my best. I guess I better attack the archives or something, because if I ever knew anything about growing crystals, I’ve forgotten it all, and I was pretty young still when Praxus fell, but- Wow! This is really awesome.” He stopped talking and just smiled up at Megatron as the backs of his fingers stroked down Bluestreak’s cheek.

There was an electric moment of optics meeting, and Bluestreak suddenly felt entirely too warm, but just like all the times before, when he dropped his gaze, too overwhelmed, Megatron withdrew. Bluestreak thought this slow, willing to wait for it sort of seduction was a good one. It was sure working on him. He really wasn’t ready to interface with Megatron, but it made him feel good that he was wanted, but not being pushed. He kind of felt like a tease, what with letting Skywarp touch him, and playing with the Stunticons, and even a few other mechs over the past few weeks, but Megatron was _Megatron_.

They were both distracted from Bluestreak’s blushing by Skywarp suddenly landing on the railing.

“Hey! Did you see that?” Skywarp jumped down to the balcony floor, then flumped into a chair. “We wiped the clouds with them!”

Starscream landed much more lightly, waving off the other trine as they transformed and flew closer. “Of course we did,” he sniffed, then perched on Megatron’s knee. “Oh! You gave him the crystal. Do you like it?”

“Oh _tons_! I need to research it though, because I don’t know what to do for it.” Bluestreak beamed around at all three of them, then zeroed in on Starscream as a sudden thought struck him. “Hey! Can you help me?” He wiggled his doorwings playfully, making both Seekers snicker at him.

“I’m sure we can uncover something if we dig into the archives,” Starscream said, then poked Megatron’s chest plating. “I want goodies. Get me some.”

“You’re sitting on me.”

“Are you complaining?”

Skywarp snorted, and leaned toward Bluestreak. “Let’s go. The flirting is only going to get worse from here.”

Bluestreak laughed, and let Skywarp drag him away, but not before carefully placing his crystal on a side table in his lounge where he could see it the moment he returned to his quarters. 

~

“I still think you should let me use it as a seed crystal,” Mixmaster said. He stood, hip leaning against the countertop as Bluestreak read up on crystal formation and how it worked on Cybertron.

He was learning a lot, but it was kind of making his head spin. There was just so _much_ information! Bluestreak was frankly shocked at how much information there was. He had always thought that growing crystals was some mystical gift of the spark, that there was nothing out there about it, that those that had once done it kept their secrets close and guarded, and that this database search Starscream had taken him to the labs for was going to be a fruitless endeavor.

Bluestreak was ecstatic to be wrong, and also pleased to see that growing crystals was just something that required patience and diligence. They grew all over in the south because of the acid rains, so even though acid rain was rare on Cybertron now, the compounds existed in abundance to grow crystals.

“I really don’t want to break it, and I’m not sure, based on all this stuff here that I’m reading, that dunking it in a solution is the best choice. I mean, if we want to bring back the Gardens, then we oughta do it the right way, don’t you think?” Bluestreak asked.

“Why can’t the right way be the fast way? Hang that one there in a saturated solution and it’ll grow. Bet I can mix up something that would have it double that size in a week.”

Bluestreak bit his tongue to keep from giggling as Starscream shook his helm emphatically from behind Mixmaster. His wings were raised and swept back in alarm, hand up and waving in a gesture that pretty much _screamed_ , ‘no, no, no, no, oh my farking Primus, please no!’, but the look on his face was too earnest to be serious.

Bluestreak nodded to Mixmaster, trying hard to hold the conversation and not burst out laughing. “Maybe, but the best crystals take time to grow.” He pointed at the screen to show Mixmaster the line of text. “I’m thinking I’ll ask Megatron where he wants to put the crystal garden, and then we can start small. I really _do_ need your help though, if you’re willing. We don’t get much acid rain here, and according to this… uh…”

Bluestreak scrolled back, finger tracing the lines of words up until he found what he was after. “Ah! Here it is! See this stuff? I don’t even know how to pronounce most of these words, at least… I hope they’re actually words or I’m going to feel really dumb, but either way, I don’t understand, but it’s _supposed_ to be a list of the stuff that was in the acid rain that helped the crystals form, and since it doesn’t rain much here, we’re kinda gonna have to like, water the crystals ourselves to get them to grow.”

Mixmaster was leaning in, reading as Bluestreak spoke, and nodding along. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s the stuff I need to know right there.” He looked at Bluestreak, helm tilting. “You _sure_ you want to do it this way? Because I’m sure I could do it faster.”

A giggle escaped Bluestreak as Starscream yelped, his pantomime suddenly interrupted by Hook giving him a stinging flick to his wingtip. The innocent expression and baby-sweet, “Why would you do that to me?” only made Bluestreak laugh harder.

Hook glowered, but said nothing and continued on to a storage cabinet. Mixmaster watched his gestalt mate as Hook eyed Starscream on his way back out of the lab.

“Ok then,” Mixmaster said, and turned back to Bluestreak. “You sure?”

Bluestreak calmed his giggles, forced his optics off Starscream’s waggling wings, and smiled up at Mixmaster. “I’m sure. At least to start. Maybe if we can track down some more crystals though, you can try your ideas then?”

“Meh. Fair enough.”

“See,” Starscream said. “Didn’t I tell you he would be perfect to ask?”

Mixmaster’s helm swiveled to look over at Starscream, then pointed at the wall behind Bluestreak. Bluestreak looked, and his optics went wide in surprise. The highly polished surface of the cabinets was incredibly reflective. It wasn’t quite as good as a mirror, but it showed the three of them clearly enough that Bluestreak instantly knew that Mixmaster had been able to see pretty much everything Starscream had been doing. He turned back toward Starscream, mouth parted, wondering what he could possibly say to smooth it all over.

Starscream’s wings shrugged up and down, optics blinking as he held Mixmaster’s gaze. “Yes…?”

Mixmaster’s optics rolled, and he turned back to the console, hand pulling a data chip from his subspace. “I’ll work out something.” He cast a look over his shoulder at Starscream. “And if we find any spare crystal shards, I’ll see what exciting things I can do with one or two of them.”

Starscream shooed Mixmaster out of the way. “Yes, yes, go melt through a few more tables.” He leaned over Bluestreak to poke at the console. “Here. I want to look in this other database and see if it has anything on the compounds in the crystals themselves. I know that they’re not _all_ made up of the same minerals.”

Bluestreak gave Mixmaster a lopsided smile and shrug, getting a hand flap in return. He watched the Constructicon leave the lab, then put his full attention back on Starscream. Eventually he just got out of the Seeker’s way and watched, grinning as Starscream muttered and wrote notes on a datapad.

They spent the rest of the day like that, time passing surprisingly quickly. Bluestreak was startled, jumping and spinning around as Skywarp _vopped_ into the lab.

“Hey, nerds! Ready for dinner?”

“We are not on Earth anymore, Skywarp.”

“Duh.” Skywarp flashed a smile at Bluestreak, and held his hand out. “Want the express ride?”

Bluestreak shook his helm. The last time he’d been teleported, he had lost his lunch- to use an Earth term.

“Chicken,” he teased. “Come on.” Skywarp slapped Starscream’s wing, earning himself a hiss and glare. “Megatron’s waiting.”

~

The conversation lagged a bit as the four of them finished their energon. It was a comfortable way to spend an evening, chatting and lounging after Bluestreak had had a rather solitary day out in the crystal garden. That was not by any means a negative thing, as he had found over the last couple weeks that he really did have the knack for crystallography, but plotting the paths, cleaning the detritus, and preparing the ground took time, and he had actually not interacted much with the Decepticons of late. He thought he might need to just take a day off with them the next time a free day rolled around.

Bluestreak did like spending time with everyone. It was a lot like home in some ways.

Though, in some ways it was _really_ different.

He would have had to be blind to miss the rather significant looks that Megatron and the Seekers shared. At home he wouldn’t- _didn’t_ have so many mechs doing everything in their power to entice him to spend time with them, particularly in their berths.

Bluestreak balked only for a moment as Skywarp took his hand, rose from his seat, and lightly tugged. It was just a momentary hesitation. Bluestreak met Skywarp’s optics, then stood and let himself be led toward the berth room. He had been shown around Megatron and Starscream’s quarters before, so the huge, plush berth wasn’t a surprise, but his mind reeled a little at the thought that _he_ would be on it. And soon too.

Skywarp grinned as he drew Bluestreak in closer, his other arm wrapping around his waist. Behind him, Bluestreak could hear Megatron’s heavier tread, and the higher _click_ ing of thrusters against floor tiles as Starscream followed them. He felt nervous and self-conscious, and was still worried about interfering in a bond that had pretty much driven the mechs insane before it was repaired.

“You can say no,” Skywarp whispered, lips brushing over the chevron on Bluestreak’s helm.

The touch sent a shiver of desire down Bluestreak’s back struts, and shook his helm. “Think I’d rather say yes,” he whispered back.

“Can be just me,” Skywarp suggested. “They can entertain themselves.”

Letting himself be turned, then laid back onto the berth, Bluestreak thought it over. “Yeah. Just you this time.” He had interfaced with Skywarp plenty, but alone and in his own berth. He felt a little awkward knowing that Megatron and Starscream were going to see him, hear him, but under that self-consciousness was a thrill of real lust. He looped his arms up around Skywarp’s neck, letting his knees fall open more before hooking one over a silver hip.

The berth shifted, and Bluestreak glanced over as Skywarp nuzzled into his neck. He smiled at Starscream as he crawled closer, and arched up against Skywarp, giving a sensuous little squirm and winking. What was it Jazz always said? Fake it ‘til you make it? He could do that, and Skywarp really was pretty good at- oh!

Bluestreak’s hands went to Skywarp’s helm, his optics shutting and mouth opening on a gasp as the seal around the glass of his headlight was nibbled and licked. He already knew what Skywarp was going to do. The Seeker’s oral fixation was something he had learned not to question unless he wanted to be shown just how much Skywarp enjoyed using his mouth. Tonight he wasn’t really in the mood to be turned into a begging, screaming puddle of Praxian, no matter how hot it was. He was just a little too aware of his audience for that. Of course, with the way Skywarp was trailing sucking kisses down his abdominal plating and finding all the tiny gaps to lick along, Bluestreak really might not be able to escape that fate.

“I knew you had been keeping him pleased, Skywarp, but you look like you might actually know what you’re doing,” Starscream said, voice much closer than Bluestreak had expected.

Bluestreak opened his optics and tipped his helm up to look at Starscream. He smirked, optics already a much deeper blue, and purred, “He really does.” He stroked his hand over Skywarp’s helm, fingers playing over the thin slats of his lateral vents. Skywarp’s fingers dipped beneath Bluestreak’s plating, drawing a soft moan from him as he lightly stroked over a sensor node cluster.

“Can make him sing,” Skywarp said, slipping lower to nuzzle along hot pelvic plating.

Starscream trilled a soft note, reaching out to lightly slide a single fingertip over Bluestreak’s chevron. “Can you then?”

“Mmnh,” Skywarp replied.

Bluestreak tried to resist, not wanting to come across _too_ eager, but when Skywarp opened his mouth over his interface cover, sucking, then biting gently so his teeth scraped over the surface and made sensation buzz through Bluestreak’s array, the locks disengaged of their own accord. Bluestreak’s panel retracted, spike extending. His back arched off the berth and he caught at Skywarp’s helm, other hand swinging out to grip Starscream’s upper arm. Starscream chuckled, scooting just a little closer to push his helm against Bluestreak’s while Skywarp busied himself teasing his spike with too-light licks and playful nips.

“He _is_ good, isn’t he?” Starscream murmured, voice low by Bluestreak’s audial. “I like to wind him up until he shoves me down.”

Bluestreak whimpered, hips squirming on the berth and under Skywarp’s solid grasp.

“Has he been at all dominating with you yet?” Starscream continued.

Bluestreak rocked his helm ‘no’, a hitched whimper escaping as Skywarp’s hot mouth _finally_ closed around the tip of his spike.

“Mm. Might not be wise I suppose.” Starscream’s hand smoothed over Bluestreak’s abdomen and chest plating with slow caresses. “You are rather small.”

“I can fit,” Skywarp said, mouth popping off Bluestreak’s spike.

“Warp!”

“Well, I can. I mean it’s a _nice_ tight fit, but yeah, I wouldn’t want to be too rough with him.” Skywarp snickered as Bluestreak bounced his hips insistently, and wrapped one hand around his spike. “He’s fun as all slag to tease though.” He pumped his hand up and down, then squeezed a little. “Something you want there, sweetspark?”

“Warp,” Bluestreak repeated, this time whimpering.

“That’s my name!”

Oh, Primus, he was going to get his revenge. “Please!”

“How hot is that?” Skywarp grinned.

“Very,” Megatron said, speaking for the first time. Bluestreak didn’t look this time, however, face heating. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Nah, he likes it cuz I make it worth it. Watch.” Skywarp’s hand left Bluestreak’s hip, sliding down to push two fingers into his valve while giving his spike another slow stroke. Bluestreak cried out, then shouted even louder as Skywarp’s lips closed around him again.

“Ah! Frag!” Bluestreak gasped, then keened, fingers digging into Starscream’s arm, his helm tossing. Heat swept through him, then balled up into a molten knot low in his belly. His sensornet tingled, legs moving restlessly as he tried to find a way to ground himself even as he was wound higher.

Skywarp purred, the vibration shooting straight through Bluestreak. He snapped up, curling toward the Seeker as everything in him tensed then whipped free with sharp, repetitive cries. Bluestreak flopped back, body buzzing, the room tilting a bit as it turned. His respiration was fast, vents wide open to drag in as much cooling air as possible.

Only the sound of heated systems filled the room as Skywarp moved to hang over Bluestreak, smiling and looking very pleased with himself. When he spoke, his voice was a little rougher in arousal. “Have I told you yet today how frelling hot you are?”

Bluestreak smiled back and shrugged. “Might’ve mentioned it, but you could always say it again to be on the safe side if you really wanted to, but then you did just kind of say it, so you don’t really need to, I’m not greedy for compliments. Ya know what I really want though?”

Skywarp smirked, then looked at Starscream. “See? Fraggin’ hot.” He looked back down at Bluestreak, shifting into a better position. “What do you really want?”

Bluestreak was distracted from flirting by Starscream’s sudden gasp. He looked over as Starscream dropped to his elbows, forehelm landing on Bluestreak’s chest. Across the broad expanse of wings held flat and already trembling, Bluestreak met Megatron’s smirk. The wink he was cast was still surreal. Megatron didn’t do openly playful very often.

Skywarp purred, leaning down to kiss Bluestreak’s cheek. “Have I told you before about Starscream and interfacing?”

“No,” Bluestreak answered, his optics were trapped and held by Megatron’s as he slowly rocked his hips back, then forward, driving a muffled sound from Starscream.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this. He makes the cutest sounds.”

“Shut. Up,” Starscream said into Bluestreak’s plating, panting between the two words. Another gasp, then he made the softest whimper.

“What? I’m not going to ruin it for him.” Skywarp gave a neck cable a sharp bite, making Bluestreak jolt and yelp. “Besides. He’s going to be pretty distracted here in a minute anyways.”

“Big talk,” Bluestreak mumbled, but his vents caught as the thick, blunt end of Skywarp’s spike pressed against at his array.

“Not the only thing I got that’s big.”

Starscream groaned, and reached up to smack at Skywarp’s helm. Megatron’s next thrust rocked him into Bluestreak more, and another almost squeak of a whimper sounded.

Skywarp snickered, purring as he slowly pushed his spike into Bluestreak. Bluestreak let his helm fall back, optics closing as heat flowed up from the nodes being stroked deep inside him to spark across his circuits. He shifted his grip on Starscream's arm, hooking it around the Seeker's neck to hold him closer. His other hand clutched at Skywarp's shoulder as he rocked his hips down into the slow thrusts. Pleasure buzzed over his sensornet as they found a rhythm, and Starscream squirmed higher, hiding another of those little whimpers in Bluestreak's neck. It was becoming less awkward by the minute. Bluestreak dared another glance at Megatron, shivering as he saw garnet optics locked on his face.

"He likes this," Skywarp whispered by Bluestreak's audial. "He likes watching others, mostly Starscream, but he's had the hots for you since we learned you were the one." His voice was breathless, soft. Primus, one of the things Bluestreak adored about interfacing with Skywarp was that _he_ did the talking. It took the pressure off. Pits, everything about Skywarp took the pressure off him, his need to impress his lovers, that fear he wasn't doing enough, being good enough to truly please them. "It's a wing thing, I think. He likes those door panels of yours. Don't ever have to 'face him if you don't want to. Slag, I bet this’ll be his favorite memory to replay for _months_!”

Bluestreak moaned, the idea of Megatron thinking of _him_ was ridiculously hot and only making the pleasure course harder through his systems. Bluestreak held Megatron’s gaze until Starscream lifted his helm and blocked his view. It was natural to lift his helm, optics dimming, lips parting. Electricity shot down Bluestreak’s back as Starscream licked into his mouth, another of those adorably sexy little whimpers muffled in the kiss. Bluestreak clutched at Starscream’s helm, holding tight so Megatron’s now faster thrusts wouldn’t break their kiss. Skywarp moaned into his neck, whispering erotic compliments as his pace sped up as well.

Starscream broke the kiss, pushing his face into Bluestreak’s shoulder. His fingers tightened, vents roaring as his wings shook. Bluestreak watched as the Seeker’s back arched downward even more, aft pushing back against Megatron.

“Here we go,” Skywarp murmured, cheek resting against Bluestreak’s so he could watch Starscream too, his own thrusts lengthening, pushing harder.

Starscream whimpered, then gasped, then broke into soft, ecstatic sobs.

Overload washed up over Bluestreak like an ocean wave. His own cry rose over Starscream’s softer keening, underscored by Megatron’s low, rumbling growl, and Skywarp’s shout only a moment later.

Bluestreak came down slowly, panting while he stared up at the ceiling. Skywarp lay over him, arms trembling slightly as he held his weight off of Bluestreak. There was a clank and Starscream squeaked, but his aft remained sticking up in the air even as Megatron dropped to his side.

“That was really cute,” Bluestreak grinned, rolling his helm to the side while Skywarp laughed.

“Shut up, Wa- Hey!” Megatron caught Starscream’s hip and pulled him over, then wrapped his arm over the Seeker’s waist.

Bluestreak squirmed around into a better position once Skywarp climbed off of him, and ended up with his back snuggled against Starscream’s chest. He burrowed into Skywarp’s neck, listening to the rumbling from Megatron. He didn’t think he’d ever heard _that_ satisfied of a purr before, and smiled a little to think he had something -however minor- to do with it.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, vents quieting, systems spinning down from the high of shared pleasure, and the heat dissipating little by little.

“This makes me miss TC,” Skywarp whispered.

“Shh.” Starscream’s arm lifted off of Bluestreak, moving over him.

Bluestreak tipped his helm back to look up at Skywarp and pressed a kiss to his chin. “You’ll see him soon,” he said. “Bet he misses you too.”

Skywarp smiled, and wriggled a bit closer. “I’m in no hurry to get rid of you. Even if it is only for two weeks.”

A large hand settled on Bluestreak’s chest plating, making him smile a bit more. “Oh don’t worry,” Bluestreak murmured, snuggling back in. “I miss my friends too. It’s not insulting that you want to see Thundercracker.”

That big hand squeezed Bluestreak’s hip lightly, the purr rumbling a little louder.

“Recharge, sweetlings,” Starscream murmured.

Silence reined again for a few minutes, the lights dimming on someone’s signal. Bluestreak smirked into Skywarp’s cockpit glass. “Still think all those sounds you made were cute, Starscream.”

Skywarp snorted and Megatron chuckled, but Starscream dug his fingers into Bluestreak’s side to tickle some wires in revenge.

~

Bluestreak woke earlier than usual. It was becoming a habit over the last few days, and he figured it was probably his body finally catching up on all the missed rest over the vorns. That, or maybe just that every day was really fun and interesting, and he couldn’t wait to be up and moving so he could have even more fun and do even more interesting things.

Also, his garden. It was nice to get out early in the day. It was to the point where all he needed to do was mist them with the solution Mixmaster and Starscream had bickered over the perfecting of, then leave it until the next day. He couldn’t even begin filing and sanding the crystals to help shape their growth. Not yet. Pits, that was a long way off. However, seeing to the garden early meant catching everyone in the rec room to see who was on or off duty that day that he could hang out with.

Bluestreak was also slightly tempted to grab a spare cube and go sneak into Skywarp’s room. That could be fun. He didn’t often wake before the Seeker, and he could just imagine Skywarp’s face if _he_ woke him to a bit of early morning interfacing in his quarters for a change.

The idea sounded better and better the more he thought about it, so Bluestreak grabbed two cubes from his dispenser and headed for the door. The door opened and Bluestreak gasped in surprise, jumping back before he could step down on the delicate-looking copper... thing.

"Wow, what's that?" Bluestreak asked, smiling down at Vortex where he crouched.

"It's, um, a gift." Vortex stood, lifting the copper sculpture.

"Is that for me?" Bluestreak smiled. He figured it was, just like all the other gifts that had been appearing, but he was still rather surprised to open his door and nearly stumble over a gift _and_ its giver.

At first it had been datapads for reading or doodling, then came the energon treats as word got around how fascinated Bluestreak was by the sheer variety the Decepticons made. Everyone tried to out-do one another, and Bluestreak had more goodies than he could possibly eat. He had a bunch saved in his subspace for his visit home, and was pretty excited about sharing them with his Autobot friends. Who knew Wildrider could cook? _Then_ the whole crystal garden news had gotten around, and suddenly Bluestreak was getting nothing but crystals. He had gotten so many over the weeks since beginning his project that he'd been able to pass a few on to Mixmaster. The Constructicon was ecstatic, and Bluestreak was always excited to see what was growing in his lab.

Far rarer gifts were pretty metal bowls and plates, simple etched tumblers and cups, fine sculptures, like the one Vortex now held. Bluestreak had thought all those had been from Megatron, maybe commissioned or something by Starscream -Skywarp was even a possibility- but to see the same beautiful work in Vortex's hands was surprising.

"Uh, yeah." Vortex shifted from foot to foot, managing to look horribly uncomfortable even with the visor and mask in place.

Bluestreak smiled wider, then stepped back to gesture Vortex inside. "Come on in!"

Light flashed across the visor, and Vortex hesitated. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not? I mean, how rude would it be to just take the gift and kick you out? I think that'd be kinda against my whole purpose here to begin with, and I'd be ashamed of myself for treating anyone like that anyways, especially when you've been giving me such thoughtful and pretty things, right? I mean, this looks like it's done in the same style as that one there." Bluestreak pointed to the sculpture he had found on his doorstep a week before.

"I really like it. Are you making these? What about these things?" Bluestreak put down the energon cubes and picked up a large, shallow bowl made from woven and twisting steel wires. "I really like this one, I kept my crystals in it until the garden was ready to be seeded." He beamed up at Vortex, determined to hide his nervousness. If the worst happened, he could always call Megatron, but so far every expectation of 'typical' Decepticon behavior had not been met. He was hoping Vortex turned out as different as all the others.

Vortex stepped into Bluestreak's lounge with slow, almost hesitant steps. "I did." his rotors ruffled a little, metal chiming softly from behind his back. "You're really brave, you know?"

Bluestreak shrugged his doorwings, and gestured toward the couches. He reclaimed the cubes, and held one out to Vortex. "I don't really think so. It doesn't exactly take bravery to have this much fun. I'm being spoiled rotten." He flashed a bright, happy grin as Vortex took the offered cube, and then sat down.

Vortex took a seat across the conversation table, and set the newest sculpture down. "I'm happy you like the pieces. I wasn't sure you would, or did." His rotors shifted and ruffled around again.

"Why not? They're really gorgeous." Bluestreak took a drink of his energon, then set it aside to really look at the new sculpture. It wasn't anything, not really. Well, maybe it kind of looked like a tower. What had Sunstreaker called that? Abstract? Whatever it was, Bluestreak definitely liked it.

"Thank you," Vortex said, voice rather soft.

"You ok?" Bluestreak asked, his helm tipping in curiosity. "Cuz I didn't mean to put you on the spot about your art or anything. I know Sunny doesn't like it when he gets lots of compliments."

Vortex shook his helm, rotors chiming again in what Bluestreak was beginning to think was a sign of his nervousness. "No. I'm glad you like it, I'm just... I don't know. It's weird to sit here with you I guess. I thought you'd be afraid of me."

"Why? You aren't going to hurt me."

"No. It's all been a bit surreal for me. I'm a sadistic interrogator with no enemies to torture. It's a little... difficult sometimes. Like right now. I want to hurt you. I want to hear you scream and beg, but I know it's wrong." Vortex shrugged a little. "I don't know why I want to either. You're... No, that could be why. I'd like to break this bravery thing you have going, but I don't want to." He paused. "That doesn't make any sense out loud does it?

"You know, I can remember a time I wasn't like this. Well, I mean, I know a time like that existed. I don't really _remember_ it anymore."

Bluestreak tipped his helm, forcing his respiration to stay even, to not show the fear that was making him a little cold just then. "Something bad happened to you? Because I know how something bad happening can mess with a mech."

Vortex shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe? That sounds like an excuse, and Megatron said no excuses. I get to live, but I have to fit myself into a civilian life and I'm not allowed to hurt anyone. Not for any reason."

"The others don't bait you?" Bluestreak frowned, realizing that he was _still_ assuming things.

"Some did at first," Vortex replied. "Onslaught's been helping me a lot. Wildrider was the worst, but he's crazy. Motormaster offered to organize a kind of deal, but I don't want to do any of that anymore. It's like Syk. You can break away, but you don't want to do even one more single hit. It could break you."

"Wow. You're really serious about this whole thing, huh? That's cool."

"Heh. Well, if I slag it up, Megatron will crush my spark himself, so yeah, I'm taking it pretty seriously. Like I said, I know there was a time when I wasn't like this, so I can do it again." Vortex gestured to the sculpture. "This stuff helps. Weird as that sounds. I start feeling too itchy, I just get my hands into some metal. It comes out pretty enough this way too. I'm grateful. Megatron lets me go scavenging though the construction sites for scraps to use, and Scrapper even saves bits of metal that Scavenger finds too.

"I like this whole peace thing. Our gestalt's even learning to get along better. Anyway."

Vortex drained his cube, then stood, so Bluestreak rose too. "So, since I'm practicing consent and respecting it and all, is it ok if I bring you more gifts?"

Bluestreak beamed up at him. "Yeah! I mean, if you want to, then things like this would be nice, but you know, give stuff to others too, I only have so much room in here. Oh hey! Oh! I could go with you sometime and help you find scraps if you want." It'd be good for him to face his fears, and maybe having Bluestreak around a little and trusting him would be good for Vortex too. Assuming that it wouldn't just be temptation, or something. He figured the Syk addiction was a good analogy, since it sure didn't sound like Vortex's sadism was just a kinky berthplay thing.

Of course, he might have just shocked the mech into glitching. "Only if you want," Bluestreak added. "No pressure or obligation or anything like that, I just thought-"

"You would do that?" Vortex cut in. "You would actually go out, alone, without guards, with _me_?"

"Well, sure. I mean, why not, right? You aren't going to hurt me. I mean, you said it yourself that you like the peace, so you wouldn't risk wrecking everything you've gained, you're way too smart for that anyways, and even if you were willing, you know that Megatron would probably really kill you if you even dented me. Pits, _I_ know he might, because I know firsthand how serious he is about this arrangement." Bluestreak nodded. "So yes, Vortex. I would. _And_ if it starts getting weird for you, and you need some space, just tell me and I'll take off."

Vortex stared in silence at Bluestreak for a long moment, he was oddly still, and Bluestreak began to feel like prey. He wanted to babble more, back out maybe, but no. No, this was his duty, his responsibility. If _he_ could reach out to a mech like Vortex and make even the slightest bit of difference, then maybe others would too?

Bluestreak's smile grew to a grin, then a snicker. Wow, did he have delusions of grandeur or what?

"What's funny?" Vortex asked.

"I'm terrified of you."

"With good reason."

Bluestreak giggled a little. "Yeah, but I still want to get to know you more. In a platonic, non-painful way."

Vortex stared at Bluestreak a moment longer, then snorted a short laugh. "All right. I need to go now, but I'll comm you in a few days for the next run."

"Ok." Bluestreak followed Vortex to the door. "See ya then! And thank you!"

He waved to Vortex, then shut the door. He would need to inform Megatron, just as a heads-up, so someone with authority knew. Bluestreak wanted to do some good, he wanted to trust Vortex, but he didn't think he should be stupid about it.

~

It was his last night.

His _last_ night.

 _His_ last-

Ok, enough of that, Bluestreak thought, then noticed the flash of light roll over Soundwave’s visor. He shrugged and grinned, and popped a small treat into his mouth. “Well, it is.”

Soundwave made a soft sound Bluestreak had come to associate with him being amused. Not quite a real laugh, but then for a mech with a name like Soundwave, the slagger rarely made a sound.

“What is ‘it’?” Starscream asked.

“My last night.” Bluestreak snickered and Soundwave laughed his not-quite-a-laugh again.

Starscream shook his helm, trying to hide his smile, but Megatron chuckled too. It was Skywarp who looked a little sad.

“Gonna miss seeing you in the mornings,” Skywarp said.

Bluestreak tipped sideways to kiss his cheek, and purred, “I’ll miss you too. I’ll miss all of you, but you’ll finally get to see TC for a bit, and I’ll be back in a couple weeks.”

“Speaking of which,” Megatron said, “Is there anything we should acquire for you before your return?”

Bluestreak blinked, helm tipping. “Huh?” he asked, then the question sunk in. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been spoiled fragging rotten the last couple months. I miss my friends, but I am already looking forward to coming back here. I’ve had a _lot_ of fun! I mean, I still feel bad about thinking the things I was thinking when I was asked to be the Hostage. I expected so much worse than this. Like, a lot worse, and I’m sorry about that, but I guess it was a long war. This whole thing has been really awesome though, and I can’t wait to get back and tell the others. They probably won’t believe me right away, so is it ok if I take some things with me? I’ll bring them back, and I have image captures of the garden and my rooms.

“Oh, Primus! I’m going to miss my berth so much! It's so soft and squooshie! Bet that'd be way too much work to take with me just for two weeks, huh?" Bluestreak grinned. "I'm serious about trading with the Autobots. I don't know what we have that you'd want, but wow! That padding on all Autobot berths?" He paused. "Wow. Everyone would just recharge. Hm. Ok, wait to make the trade until after I'm back, I want them awake so I can hang out with them.”

"Sleepy Autobots," Skywarp snickered. "We could have won the war if only Mixmaster had come up with it sooner."

Laughter cut off suddenly, and Skywarp's helm ducked. "I- Uh..."

Bluestreak reached over and tweaked Skywarp's wingtip. "It's ok. Seriously, guys, it's ok. The war happened, and I think we shouldn't forget it. Pits, we were at each other's throats like, only a year ago. Now look at us."

Megatron relaxed, plating resettling a bit, and he nodded agreement. "Indeed. I'm glad this has worked out as well as it has." He smiled at Bluestreak. "You will be missed, which is more than I had hoped for when I suggested the trade to Prime."

Bluestreak felt his spark melt a little, and smiled back. "I wish I could give something back to everyone, you know? Show how much I appreciate how awesome this has all been."

Megatron shook his helm. “That’s not how it works. You are our honored guest, and-”

Bluestreak twisted and pushed up from his seat, lips meeting Megatron's in a closed-mouth kiss. He knew where this lecture was going if Megatron picked up steam. He’d heard _plenty_ on the history of the Honorable Hostage. He knew _everything_ Megatron knew on the subject and had absorbed, _lived_ how the Decepticons had interpreted the idea individually. Pits, he knew what he could give back.

The kiss softened, and even though Bluestreak was the only participant for the moment, it still sent a thrill tripping down his spinal supports.

Large, powerful hands, hands that had crushed sparks, pummeled the Prime, killed countless mechs, curved over Bluestreak's shoulders in a gentle but firm hold, and eased him back just enough for their optics to meet. "I don't want this form of payment, or gratitude, or whatever you think it is."

Bluestreak tipped his helm a bit and smiled. "Not even the gift of my trust?" Oops, wait. Was that manipulative? "I mean, it's ok to say no, I'm not going to be offended if you don't want me, but I kind of do want this. Like, a lot. It's the best thing I can think of to show you how much everything's meant to me, and how much I _do_ trust you now, and isn't that what this whole deal's been about?

"Not that we _have_ to, of course. I suppose the timing could feel a bit weird for you, since you guys all seem super conscious of not abusing any power you have over me, so that's cool. Of course, when I get back, I'm making it my goal to jump your struts." Bluestreak glanced over at Starscream. "Assuming that's ok? I really don't want to mess with the bond thing, and I think that's been my main hang-up, but then that night last week was pretty fragging epic."

Starscream laughed, and Skywarp was muffling giggles. Soundwave merely watched, and Bluestreak didn't bother trying to hide his thoughts or emotions. He meant it all. Every bit of it. So when Megatron's hand cupped his chin and brought his face back around, he was way more than ready for the kiss he received.

Optics falling shut, Bluestreak leaned in against the broad silver chest plating, doorwings detecting the shifting air currents as the other three mechs quietly departed.

Alone with Megatron.

Not all that long ago that would have terrified Bluestreak, and he felt no shame in admitting it to himself. Or anyone else, really. Now, all he felt was a trembling awareness of just how _big_ Megatron was, and how warm his body was growing at the thought of what was about to happen.

Bluestreak half expected to be carried -Motormaster liked lifting him and holding him tight as he took Bluestreak to the berth- but Megatron eased him back so they could both stand, seeming almost as reluctant as Bluestreak to break the kiss. He led the way to his berth room with twined fingers, garnet-shaded optics locked on Bluestreak’s.

There was that intensity again. It made Bluestreak feel like he was falling forward even though he wasn’t. Like if he didn’t look away, he’d melt to slag. Like he was trapped without any possible escape, but didn’t mind it one frelling bit. He shivered, doorwings twitching, plating tingling for want of touch. His free hand almost itched, and he brought it up, flattening it against Megatron’s abdominal armor, pushing lightly, turning so that it was Megatron’s back to the berth.

There was a timeless quality seeping into the moment. The dim lights cast warm shadows throughout the room and made their optics seem to glow even brighter, and everything was moving so slowly. Megatron sat on the edge of the berth, and Bluestreak moved in close, his hand sliding from Megatron’s to caress up his arm. Chest plating touched, then their lips met again, and Bluestreak’s spark flashed hard, aching arousal burning throughout his whole body in that instant.

Megatron’s hands gripped his waist, and as he laid back, Bluestreak was lifted off his feet to lie on top of him. He drew his knees up and out, balancing over Megatron so his hands could explore. A deep purr vibrated up through his palms, and even better, his interface cover and inner thighs. Bluestreak moaned softly, rocking a little, needing the friction already.

“Totally jumping your struts when I get back,” Bluestreak murmured, then bit at Megatron’s lower lip. “Frag. Why are you suddenly so hot?” Megatron chuckled, but Bluestreak stopped any words by deepening the kiss again, only pulling back to whisper, “Want you inside me. Bad.” Nothing but the truth, but what little thought he could give it, Bluestreak knew it wasn’t actually ‘sudden’. This had been building, and he’d had more than a few vivid fantasies during the nights over the past week. Megatron growling and suddenly flipping him to his back actually being one of them, and now here it was, happening.

Megatron loomed over Bluestreak, and that deep purr had grown louder and turned into a hungry growl. “You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”

Bluestreak opened his mouth to banter back, but moaned into Megatron’s kiss instead. A large hand smoothed over the front panel of a doorwing, and he grinned, remembering Skywarp’s mention of Megatron’s wing kink. His lips got nipped, and Megatron pushed an arm under Bluestreak’s back, lifting a little. His fingers found the hinges and delved into the gaps to brush wires and tender cables. A gasp escaped Bluestreak, his back bowing more off the berth as his sensornet sang from the sudden input of pleasure. He squirmed, resisting the urge to retract his panel so soon. He didn’t want this to be over too fast.

Not that Megatron was going to leave him a choice in that matter. Bluestreak whimpered as the kiss was broken, then again as Megatron slowly worked his way down his frame. Hot sucking kisses and slow, long licks trailed lower and lower, stopping off at every hotspot Bluestreak’s torso had and discovering one completely new one under the fender of his alt mode that he hadn’t known about. It made his back arch and fists clench against the berth while driving a sharp jag of bliss straight to his spark, so it was one he was definitely going to remember for future lovers to play with.

When Megatron reached his panel, a single, hot gust of air caused it to snap open. Bluestreak writhed, knees lifting and pushing out to give Megatron more room and offer his array up in open invitation. He shook and gasped as his hips were caught and pinned to the berth and was begging in broken whispers before the first slow lick had finished scribing a circle around the opening of his valve.

“Ah! Oh frag!” Bluestreak’s thighs trembled, hips rocking up, his fingers clawing into the padding of the berth in an attempt to ground himself as sensation rolled up over him in waves with every flick of Megatron’s tongue.

It didn’t take long. It felt good, but there was something that just made it extra hot that it was _Megatron_ with his face buried between Bluestreak’s legs, tongue teasing sensor nodes embedded in his array while thick fingers plunged into his valve over and over. Bluestreak cried out sharply, one hand flying to the back of Megatron’s helm to hold him in tight, keep his mouth _right there_ as overload rocked him.

That deep, rumbling purr was back as Megatron kissed his way back up over Bluestreak. He hung there for a moment, fingers still playing lightly with Bluestreak’s array, waiting for his optics to clear and the hazy of release to settle. “More?” he asked.

“If you’re not too tired,” Bluestreak replied, giving the large mech a smirk of his own.

Megatron laughed and swept down into a hard, demanding kiss. Bluestreak wound his arms around his neck, and hooked his knees over the wide pelvic plating so he could pull himself up for more contact. Another laugh as Megatron pulled away from the kiss to drag them both onto the berth more comfortably, then there was a click, Megatron arched over him, and Bluestreak found himself falling up into the deep red optics until they consumed his vision. Low in his belly, need tightened anew, and he keened as the thick, blunt end of Megatron’s spike pressed to his valve.

Bluestreak had known Megatron was large, had feared it a little, not because he expected to be used roughly -not after seeing Megatron and Starscream together- but because he was a _lot_ smaller. It _was_ a stretch, but not a painful one. Megatron thrust shallowly, edging deeper little by little, those incredibly intense optics holding Bluestreak’s captive as he gasped and bucked, trying to take more faster. He felt impaled, spread wide, stretched taut, blissfully full as every sensor node lit up with charge just from the press of Megatron’s spike. He whimpered, optics falling shut as he squirmed for more, then yelping as Megatron withdrew and thrust back in.

The whole of Cybertron was tilting and spinning out from under Bluestreak. He clawed at Megatron’s shoulders, demanding more. “Move! Frag! Move! _Yes_!” he shouted, voice arcing higher as Megatron thrust again.

Bluestreak still wanted it harder, faster, but was too breathless to speak, and slag it, because this was working for him too. The charge spiraled up, building slowly, winding tighter and tighter, and making his spark flash and flare in its casing. Pleasure shot across his circuits, tingling and buzzing throughout his entire body. He lost track of everything, sinking deep into the rhythm and bliss so that when overload came again, it slammed into him with the force of a star going supernova. The scream tore from his vocalizer as everything went white. By his audial, Megatron’s vents caught, followed by a low growl that filled in the white space until Bluestreak couldn’t breathe from the ecstasy consuming him.

Bluestreak fought for it, clawed after consciousness desperately, not at all ready to let the night go so soon, but it slipped through his fingers, receding to leave him in the warm velvet blackness.

 _When I get back…_ he thought.

~

“So I woke up this morning, Skywarp polished me all up after I showered, and then we met back up for the trade, and I was dragged to the medbay where Ratchet did everything but strip me to my struts for a rewiring, and here we are!” Bluestreak concluded with a smile.

Rung stared with wide optics, not even blinking when the door opened and Prime entered.

“I, um-”

“It’s ok, Optimus,” Bluestreak said. “I know you guys are watching me and all worried, but I swear, it was a _lot_ of fun! And not just the interfacing.” He snickered, noting the pink blush rising from behind Prime’s mask to cover his whole face.

Optimus grabbed a chair from beside a table, and dropped heavily into it. Bluestreak watched him, waiting to see what he was going to say. What came out wasn’t on his list of ‘Top ten things the others will what-the-frag over when I tell them about my visit.' “Did… Did Skywarp overload when the two of you interfaced?”

Bluestreak blinked, genuinely surprised. “Yeah. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? I mean, I’m not the best lover out there, but I’m no slouch either if I say so myself.” He paused, frowning in thought. “Least I don’t think I am, but yeah, Skywarp definitely overloaded.”

Prime hesitated, and Rung and Bluestreak now both stared at him in confusion. “Because trine members can’t overload without their trine mates there?” he said slowly, as though the words weren’t making sense to him either even as he spoke them.

Bluestreak’s helm tipped. “Where the slag would you get a crazy notion like that?” He glanced up as the door opened again, officer after Autobot officer entering.

Optimus pointed to Ironhide, who shrugged and remarked, “Was ‘facing a Seeker back long ago.”

“Go, Hide,” Jazz said quietly, and Ratchet snickered with him.

Ironhide ignored them both, but his face was coloring. “He told me that’s why he couldn’t overload with me.”

Bluestreak wasn’t the only one to laugh a little at that. Ironhide huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it was a _long_ time ago, Ironhide,” Bluestreak said, grinning. “You’ve probably learned lots better since then.”

“Aw, shut up!” Like that would stop the laughter.

Bluestreak looked at Prime and asked, “Why would you ask me tha-” He cut himself off, optics suddenly going wide. “Wa-a-ait… Did you try ‘facing TC and not satisfy him?”

If Optimus got any hotter in the face, he was going to melt something. “I thought I _had_ to interface with him,” he said, the words coming slow in his mortification, but then tumbling out faster as though he could be done with the subject if he just spoke faster. “I kept wondering why they would send a Seeker that couldn’t possibly enjoy it, so I just got it over as fast as I could so it wasn’t-” He dropped his face into his hand, voice muffled. “Oh Primus. And here I was so grateful when he said he didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Interfacing is hardly _that_ important,” Red Alert said. “What else were you able to learn? What restrictions did they put on you? Did you see any places where they could be stockpiling more weapons, plotting against us? Where were the places they forbade you to go?”

“What restrictions? Once I learned my way around, I went wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.” Bluestreak frowned around at them. “I went to the labs, the rec room, out onto the streets. Pits, I got to Megatron and Starscream’s quarters early one evening, and went right on in.”

“But-”

Prime’s words were cut off by the klaxons suddenly going off. He sprang to his feet, following Ironhide and Red Alert out the door, shouting over the Autobots’ main channel to hold all weapons. Bluestreak dashed after them, yelping, then calling back an apology as his doorwing smacked Ratchet. He stayed on Jazz’s heels the whole way, and pushed past once they exited the building.

There, armed, stood Megatron. Soundwave and Starscream flanked him, and looking like he’d really rather be anywhere else, Thundercracker stood behind them with a furious Skywarp at his side.

Bluestreak didn’t even think. He darted forward, slipping the hands that grabbed for him, and ran straight to Megatron. “Don’t! Wait! Wait! Please wait!”

“Bluestreak!” Prowl shouted, voice tight and genuinely afraid.

Bluestreak slid to a stop, hands flattening on broad silver chest armor that he couldn’t help recalling being over him in pleasure just _hours_ ago. “I think I know why you’re here, and I’m so sorry!” Behind him there was a scuffle, Prowl and Ironhide’s voices raised and shouting, but Bluestreak squeezed past Megatron, artfully dodging Soundwave’s hand as he tried to stop him, and grabbed both of Thundercracker’s hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“You think you know?” Megatron growled, and Bluestreak bit his lip as he looked up at him, feeling all the old fear surround his spark and squeeze.

“They treated Thundercracker badly.” Bluestreak turned back to the Seeker, earnest and feeling the weight of guilt. He could guess at what went wrong. Restrictions? Prime not even trying to please him in the berth? Primus! “You should have seen Rung’s face as I told him everything I did with the Decepticons. You should have seen how Ratchet just didn’t believe me, how fast they shuffled me off like I’d been brainwashed or something.”

“That’s not… exactly-”

Bluestreak cast a glare back over his shoulder at Optimus, cutting off his words as he and the others dared to move in closer. “Yes it is. I’m not stupid, ya know.”

“He was treated like a prisoner!” Starscream snapped, wings arching high on his back.

Bluestreak let go of Thundercracker with one hand, and clutched at Megatron’s wrist while pleading up to him. “Please. It was all so stupid. I mean Prime even believed that Thundercracker _couldn’t_ overload without his trine. Please. Things went so well for us. They just need taught, and there’s no one better than me to do that now, but if we don’t just, like, breathe for a moment here, everything’s going right back to the Pit, and I don’t think I could bear it. You’re my _friends_.”

Bluestreak bit his lip again and glanced back toward Thundercracker. “I have an idea. We trade again.”

“No!” sounded from all around Bluestreak, and it about broke his spark to see Thundercracker’s optics go liquid.

“I will _not_ allow my trine mate to suffer _more_ when he’s only just escaped!” Starscream snapped, voice shriller than Bluestreak had heard it in months.

“Escape?” someone muttered, but Bluestreak hurried to talk before that could escalate matters.

“No, that’s cool. Even if it’d been perfect he should have some time with Skywarp, right? But you can come with me.” Bluestreak glanced around, optics landing on Prowl. “And Prowl can go with Megatron.”

“What?!”

“Thundercracker can be his helper like Skywarp was for me,” Bluestreak continued, ignoring the shocked cry from Prowl and the mumbling from those around them. “It can just be for the two weeks, and who better than you to help me whip the Autobots into shape?” he asked Starscream. “Then I can go back with you, and TC will come back with Prowl, and it’ll be a _lot_ better. We can even talk every day.” He looked around, spark pounding with the desperation to make it work.

 _Please, please, don’t let the war restart. Please!_ Bluestreak thought, staring now up at Megatron with pleading optics, not daring to look back at Prime or Prowl, or any of them. “For me? Just two weeks, and if I sense the least bit of slag, I’ll help you beat sense into them myself.”

Megatron arched an optic ridge, and lifted his optics to look at Optimus. Bluestreak noted how tense and stricken Prowl looked, but he stepped forward, making the choice before Prime could speak.

“No!” Thundercracker gasped, bumping Bluestreak as he lunged to stop Starscream.

Bluestreak thought his spark really would break as Starscream touched Thundercracker’s face, then gently disentangled himself and strode over to the Autobots with his wings and head held high.

Bluestreak caught Thundercracker’s hand and squeezed it, then hurried after Starscream. Prowl visibly shook as he walked over to Megatron, but despite that and his pale optics, his voice was steady as he spoke.

“I am honored to be your Hostage.”

Bluestreak met Megatron’s optics and prayed harder.

“No,” Megatron said, “it is I who am honored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Megatron on Memory Foam by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263226/chapters/16491160)   
>  [Vortex and Bluestreak by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263226/chapters/16491175)


	3. Epilogue

Thundercracker smiled as he and Prowl approached Bluestreak and Starscream, their two-week long exchange now over. The trade wasn’t going to be any grand or ceremonious thing as the four of them had spoken just an hour before, and there wasn’t much more to say except for a few words for the benefit of their individual factions.

“I’m tired,” Starscream said as Bluestreak bounced forward and threw his arms around Prowl’s shoulders. Starscream rolled his optics, but leaned into Thundercracker’s embrace briefly before pulling back. He waved a hand at the Autobots. “They’re exhausting. Good luck with that.”

“It’ll be better this time,” Bluestreak said, beaming a cheerful smile up at Thundercracker.

“It absolutely will be,” Prowl agreed, his voice carrying. He gave Bluestreak one last hug, then slipped past with a nod to Starscream, and took his place beside Prime.

Thundercracker tore his gaze from the Autobot leader, and poked Bluestreak’s shoulder. “Keep Skywarp warm at night for me.” He smiled as Bluestreak saluted him, gave Starscream’s hand one last squeeze, then strode forward.

“I am honored to be your Hostage,” Thundercracker said.

Prime stepped forward, taking Thundercracker’s hands between his own. “No, Thundercracker, it is I who am honored, and grateful for the opportunity to make amends for the horrific blunders I’ve made. Can you ever forgive me?”

His spark pounded in its casing, and Thundercracker couldn’t deny the edge of fear, but he cycled his vents, and nodded. “At least we’re learning, right? I really want the peace to work out.”

“So do I,” Optimus said, voice soft and optics dim, and for the first time Thundercracker could really see the mech behind the title.

Smiling, Thundercracker looked down at Prowl. “Well, I was promised a tour, and then while Prowl was visiting we were talking, and I think I can be of some use in teaching the Aerialbots about flight.”

They fell into step, walking toward the Autobots’ base. Prowl pulled a datapad from his subspace. “Mixmaster also gave us the formula to the substance he invented as a berth padding. I highly recommend the science team get on this immediately.” He looked up with a smile for Thundercracker. “The first success of which can be Thundercracker’s.” His optics shifted to Optimus. “Our berths are slag.”

Thundercracker snickered and looked back over his shoulder. He lifted a hand to wave back at Skywarp and Bluestreak, then turned back to the conversation, noticing how much more relaxed the Autobots surrounding them seemed this time. He sure didn’t envy Starscream and Bluestreak all the work they’d had to do, but he smiled, relaxing himself too.

It _would_ be better this time, and he was genuinely looking forward to getting properly spoiled and sharing all the things that had wowed Bluestreak and Prowl with the rest of the Autobots.

Thundercracker met Optimus Prime’s hesitant look and smiled sincerely. “Did Bluestreak tell you about his crystal garden?”

“He mentioned it, but then…”

“It’s just getting started, but it’s going to be pretty.” Thundercracker slipped through the door ahead of Optimus, twisting to face him as they walked. “I have some image captures I can show you, and a few seed quality crystals if you want one here too.”

“I’d love a crystal garden. When I was still an archivist, I used to visit the Iaconian Gardens and just sit and listen to them sing.”

Thundercracker grinned, trying to picture the Prime as anything other than the warrior he knew. Ok. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> [Art by DarthNeko](http://archiveofourown.org/works/934909)! Please stop by her site too!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Honorable Hostage (art)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/934909) by [darthneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/pseuds/darthneko)
  * [Art for Honorable Hostage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263226) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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